by Buck

July 30, 2008

Well, I’m back. My updates are now so far apart I seem to have to begin each new segment with an apology for being away so long. Therefore—I’m sorry, but it’s probably going to be a long time before I pull my lazy ass back to a keyboard for another one—so if you don’t like the wait, go fuck yourself. 

What is it about kids and their damn cell phone ring tones? I’ve had three encounters with such stupidity in recent weeks. First why in the hell do kids need a cell phone? I was thinking back to when I was in 7th grade. People who walked around acting like they were talking on what we now call a “cell phone” were actually role playing a scene from a Star Trek episode. When you did that in my junior high school it meant you would receive a wedgie, stuffed in a locker, and a promise that no girl would EVER touch your pee-pee before you die. 

Today—it’s hip to be a dork. Obviously, look around the mall. Wall to wall dorks, all of them chattering into a handheld electronic device which is permanently crammed into the side of their head. But I digress…the ring tone is the ultimate on the list of shit that drives me crazy. 

These kids were playing their ring tones at roughly the same volume I would have been playing Back in Black when I was their age. There was a range of different tones. Some guy screaming “Peanut butter and jelly time” OVER AND OVER AND OVER. There was another in which a voice that sounded a lot like Barack Obama started out saying, “Yo man, da phone’s ringin’” It went on until he had gone into Ebonics hyper drive and was screaming, “Bitch pick up da damn phone!” 

Some of the first ones were mildly amusing—but here’s what I don’t understand. Why must you play EVERY SINGLE RINGTONE on the play list? Why not play a couple of the amusing ones and leave it at that if you must---but I was forced to endure about 20 of them long after I had lost interest and moved on to something else. There was always one more which was introduced with the phrase, “Wait, wait---check THIS out.” Here’s my blanket answer to listening to ring tones. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

Have you ever noticed that people, who wear a wallet with a chain hooking it to their pants, probably have NO money? Just an observation I’ve made. 

My dad used to tell me when he was working in a plant they always said whoever was “carrying the keys” was the boss. I saw a guy the other day with about five-pounds of keys hanging off his belt. Guess he was the freaking president of the United States. I’ll bet he has no idea what half of those keys fit. I have four keys on my key ring that I’ve forgotten what they fit---but I’m afraid to ditch them, they might be important. It sure was important enough for me to put them on there in the first place. 

I have an aunt and uncle who very well could be Nancy and Nostrils. I refrain from writing about them here for fear you guys will think I’m simply copying Jeff’s ideas. However, it’s uncanny how reading about Jeff’s in-laws sounds so strikingly like my aunt and uncle. 

I did want to mention during a family reunion my brother nearly caused them to drop off the deep end when he slapped a bumper sticker on their hybrid car that said, “Drill Here, Drill Now.” My uncle was literally on his hands and knees using his fingernails to scrape that shit off-refusing to move until it was gone. I think Jeff could have some fun if he slapped a Bush-Cheney sticker on Eninen’s bumper as they left town—burning used vegetable oil or whatever. 

Perhaps you have other suggestions for the proper bumper sticker for Jeff and me to use when we are engaged in shenanigans.

Buck Out.

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