The Automatic (beat) Pause

I know not all of you do it – but a lot of you do.

The light turns green.  You lift your foot from your brake pedal and immediately begin considering what your next move should be.  While you think, your car, which is perpetually “in gear” while set to “Circle-D,” begins inching – ney, MILLIMETERING – forward, red bulbs unlit, signaling your intent to move ahead.  Should you change CDs?  Should you add a new waypoint onto the map your GPS has so carefully drawn for you?  Perhaps you shoud call your mother and apologize for all of the terrible things you put her through during your teenaged years.  She’ll understand.  She was young once.  You were CONFUSED!  Your car continues millimetering.  You decide to press the accelerator pedal and think to yourself, “why does this damn car move so slowly on its own?  Must get a V8.”

Why does it take so long for many of you lazy cheaters to proceed from a stop?

Here’s the way you should be thinking: “Brake pedal makes car STOP.”  “Accelerator makes car GO.”  “Green light means GO.”


You must know how … wait.  You don’t, do you?  You never learned to drive a car with a proper manual transmission.  I’ve been here this entire time with my gear selector ready to force first and clutch pedal depressed – separating my clutch from my flywheel thereby rendering my transmission and my engine two machines ununited -  and you have no idea what “D” even stands for!

I must utilize all of my limbs to successfully propel my vehicle where you may as well be at home while your car takes your dog to the vet on its own!

At least tell me you’re doing this purposefully.  Tell me that you laugh to yourself each time we’re ten-and-eleven back from pole and you see me mumbling obscenities to myself as the light changes from green back to yellow.  Tell me that you know how to drive, that you’re not a huge moron and that you are aware that we could all be making much better time if you would just remember what the skinny pedal on the right actually does when utilized.  Tell me you’re getting some sort of assholish pleasure from this and I, of all people, will understand – for I am a road-rager and I enjoy making other pilots cry.  But know – know with every fibre of your being – that I am ready to go medieval on all of your ignorant asses and … uh … lay my … hand upon … er … my horn … in vengeance!

Embarrassing VENGEANCE!

Learn to drive.

Quicker Picker-Upper (A Phrase Which is Probably tm a Company That I Boycott)

Everyone ends up a little down some days.  I’m not talking about the cry-for-help kind of near-suicidal thing – just the boo hoo, woe-is-me, I-miss-my-mommy, chronic-illness-has-me-down blues.  Of course, all reasons are understandable.  Job, family, money, love, worry over Vince McMahon’s health – everyone needs little pick-me-up sometimes.

I was in need of a little pick-me-up tonight … and I found it without having to rely on silly “friends” or pesky, person-to-person interaction.

If you ever find yourself needing a laugh, I wholeheartedly suggest reading the vibrator reviews on

Stay with me, now!

Since it’s not a site dedicated solely to things adult, people tend to be a little … shy … with the language they use when issuing an amateur write-up.  Perhaps Amazon requires this – I wouldn’t know (yet) – but it still makes for a fun read.  That’s not all, though!

Take, for example, the reviews written for the most popular “massager” of all time (thank you, Real Sex), the Hitachi Magic Wand.

Now, don’t you ask why I was reading these in the first place – just come … *ahem* … join with me on this little fun-finding journey.

Firstly: I have never seen so many quotation marks in a product review and, to me, that, in and of itself, is hysterical.  Everyone that posts a review about this thing wants to make sure you know … that they know … what this thing really is.  It’s a great “toy” as well as a “fine” “massager” apparently intended for people who refer to themselves as “outies” – whatever that means.  It’s pure “magic” when used for “back pain and fatigue” and the occasional “crick” in the neck (wink-wink, nudge-nudge) – but don’t stick it in your “foxhole,” ’cause that shit would wake up the foxes (or “the wife“).

Secondly: Some people that review sex toys online admit to some pretty far-out things like insurance fraud for the sake of anal stimulation or toddlers putting on improvised shows with vibrating props.

Finally: There will always be at least one person (sometimes two) who has no idea how you are really supposed to use the thing.

Don’t “beat around the bush.“  Try it … the review reading, that is.  You’ll like it.  It really is great for a quick smile – at least it was for me tonight.  Come on, everything is funnier when it seems like it’s real so finding humor in people’s product reviews can’t be the biggest stretch.  It’s better than all the blog-reading and webcomic-perusing you’ll do with less time, less effort and much less pretending-to-find-things-funny.

Now, if I could just “find” my damn “credit card.”