Ron White ain't got shit on me.

The past two weeks have been a new kind of hell for me. I cannot begin to explain how much I loathe the car dealership near my house. It is unbelievable. But the story can't start here. It has to start at the beginning of my driving career  for you all to understand that I have the shittiest luck known to man.

My first car was an '05 Ford Mustang. I loved it more than anything. Two weeks after I got my license I was in a car accident with a cop. A fucking cop.

Two months later: I was in an accident with a Toyota.

Three months later: A school bus pulled out in front of me. I ran up under the back end going 50 miles an hour, totaling my car. 

Then I got a '97 4-Runner. I backed into a pipe, blowing off my rear tire.

Two weeks later I was in the drive thru at Wendy's and my car started squealing and smoking. A belt had fallen off in my engine, ending my air conditioning forever. This occurred on what had to be the busiest day that Wendy's has ever had. There was probably 50 faces plastered to the window watching my car blow out smoke.

I began college. My mom let me drive her Taurus because it had better gas mileage. I still wanted my 4-Runner and was planning on driving it once I returned home. I pulled into my driveway on my first day of summer and there was a new 4-Runner sitting there. My mom had traded in my car WITHOUT telling me and gotten her a new one. I was furious and I wanted a jeep. My dad said to give him a little while and we would get one. And here is where our story starts.

The 4-Runner that my mom purchased from the dealership near my home lasted about two weeks before it had to go back in the shop. They said they fixed it. She drove it and the day after she got it back and broke down on the side of the road. She sent it back to the dealership, got it back, and broke down on the side of the road again. They gave us a rental. The rental wouldn't start. We got the 4-Runner back. Broke down AGAIN the day before we were supposed to go on vacation. They gave us another rental. It broke down on the way home from Florida. You know that story. My mom got her car back again, and it broke down in the middle of the road. She narrowly avoided getting smashed by two cars. She decided she wasn't keeping it. We traded in her car and my car at the same time.

I got a really awesome '05 Jeep Wrangler. It had a 4" lift, subwoofers, 28,000 miles. It was incredible. I loved it so much. I had that fucking thing 17 hours. Let me repeat that. I had that Jeep 17 hours before I was riding down the road and had to pull over because the entire steering column was shaking like a fucking earthquake. It had what is called the "Death Wobble." We sent it back to the dealership. This was on a Saturday. Guess who fucking knew about it having the death wobble before they sold it to us? THEY DID. The guy that sold it to us played dumb and said he didn't know about it. Okay, whatever. They ordered the part. My jeep sat out there until Friday before they even looked at it. They said they ran into another problem and needed to get another part, but they would have that by Monday. Monday rolled around. They didn't buy the part because it was expensive. My dad went out and raised hell. They got around to working on it again and put smaller tires on it to see if that was part of the problem. Some low-life, son of a bitch, fucking MINDLESS MORON FORGOT TO TIGHTEN THE FUCKING LUGNUTS ON MY LEFT REAR WHEEL. They were test driving it and MY LEFT REAR WHEEL FELL OFF. IT FUCKING FELL THE FUCK OFF. THEY TURNED MY JEEP INTO A TRIPOD. I thought Ron White was kidding when he was telling that joke on stage, but apparently PEOPLE ACTUALLY FORGET TO TIGHTEN LUGNUTS. They drove 30 feet with my shocks driving the ground. My dad just so happened to be driving through town and see it sitting on the side of the road WITH THREE TIRES. He immediately warped his ass into the parking lot and told them he wasn't keeping it anymore. They gave him a 4 door jeep and said for us to look at it. It was a stock '07 with 40,000 miles on it. Nothing special. They wanted 26,000 for it. My cousin bought her '07 with bigger tires and chrome wheels BRAND NEW for a thousand more. So I have officially been carless for 13 days. I move into college on Tuesday. I don't know what I'm going to do, but if you guys hear a story about a car dealership and an arsonist don't say anything about me. I don't even know what to say. I hate them. I hate them so much. This has been the most unbelievable, ridiculous, shitty two weeks imaginable.

I'll let you guys know when I get a jeep. I expect it to be around December. Fuck car dealerships.

'MERICA

Sports have been the foundation of my life, so it is no surprise that my family takes the Olympics very seriously. I don't care what sport it is, I'll be watching with great interest and excitement, because America, you guys. But my excitement doesn't hold a candle to my Dad. You know all those crazed fans you hear about? That's my dad. Let me see if I can put this into perspective for you all.

Once, my dad went to a Clemson game with some of his friends. Things got exciting and my dad came down with the hammer (the hammer is sort of similar to watching a person crank a weed eater) while screaming "YEAH BOY!" and he clocked the lady sitting in front of him in the back of the head. It knocked her out. Let me repeat that. My dad punched a lady in the back of the head and it KNOCKED HER OUT. She spent the rest of the game curled up in her seat, crying. My dad doesn't even like Clemson. He LOVES America. This is serious.

Last night my uncle was in a car accident. We were waiting in the emergency room and Katie Ledecky, the 15 year old swimmer began her race. The first 700 meters were spent making comments on her age and whether we thought she could keep the world record pace. The last 100 meters were spent with me hiding my face in horror as my dad stood up and chanted "GO, GO, GO, GO, GO!" Nurses were scowling. Patients were staring. Babies started crying. And these are at public places. So you can only imagine what it's like in the privacy of our house when people like Michael Phelps get to going.

I love the Olympics. My dad clearly loves the Olympics. I'm just glad they only come around every four years because I have to recuperate from his excitement. His favorite event is track and field which has just started. Wish me luck. It's going to get dangerous.

It was a rhino. A big, grey, aerodynamic rhino.

Not long after I wrote my previous post about the family vacation, we stopped at Cracker Barrel: my least favorite place on earth. I don't know what it is about Cracker Barrel, but I fucking loathe that place. It puts me in a bad mood, my sister in a bad mood, and then shit goes down hill. We left the Cracker Barrel and I was able to fall asleep for about 45 minutes. I woke up in the 7th Level of Hell.

We had stopped at a gas station for a bathroom break and immediately after cutting off the engine it was like the sun shit on everything. The temperature went from a comfortable 72 degrees to a God-awful 103 and the humidity level rose to soup. I stand somewhere between 5'7-5'8. My cousin who shared the back seat with me stands somewhere around 6'0. He was stretched out across the back seat, on top of me.. for about 6 hours of that ride. That is what I woke up to. I was not happy. 

When we had left my house 7 hours prior to that stop our agreement had been that we switch drivers so no one had to be cooped up in the back seat of that fucking clown car for the entire trip. My sister immediately deemed herself and her boyfriend Queen Asshole and King Assbag of the front seat and we were banished to the back. The boyfriend went in to go to the bathroom and my cousin got up front to fiddle with the radio. Upon my sister's boyfriends return my cousin was told to "get back in the back" and then the boyfriend scooted the passenger seat as far back as it would go because "it hurt for his knees to touch the dash" taking all my leg room away in the process. I don't know if it was lack of sleep, the heat, or the cramped seating arrangement, but I snapped. I usually think out what I'm going to say to my sister when we argue and fight. I'm a planner. I either want it to be something we can laugh about later or if she's pissed me off enough I want it to hurt, but when I screamed "THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT YOU HORRIBLE FUCKING BITCH" I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. I stormed out of the car, jumped in with my parents and spent the next two hours cramped up in that car. The vacation was beginning wonderfully.

We arrived at our condo. Our room wasn't ready. One pool was closed because someone shit in it. I got burnt so bad I had sun poisoning. Awesome.

The next day everything changed. It was awesome, fun, cool, the beginning of the best vacation ever. The 2nd and third day continued that trend minus the five hour fishing trip.. or boat ride. No fish were caught. The sun had exhausted me and the next day I slept in. It was around 12:00 the next afternoon when I had apparently missed about 15 phone calls. My best friend took it upon herself to wake me up. She came in, yanked off all my cover and tried to take my mattress off my bed. My sister saw what she was doing and ran in to help. She took off my shorts. I was rolled off into the floor.. half naked. My sisters boyfriend came in and all I could do was hold my hand over my vagina like a fig leaf. He brought in a fork. My sister used that to poke me in the ass. I was violated. Pictures were taken without consent. It was a bad afternoon.

That night I was bitten by sand fleas. 116 of them to be exact. I can't even describe how bad I was itching. I didn't sleep well for the rest of the week. But it turned out to be the best vacation I ever went on. It was one giant party. I left with 37 family members. And then the ride home occurred.

We had taken a rental car because my mom's 4-Runner was messed up. The air conditioning clicked the entire way back. It sounded like a blinker. I don't know if you've ever listened to a blinker for 8 hours, but they should use it as a torture device. Our GPS is a lying little bitch. I hate that thing more than I hate anything else in the world. She is a dumb fuckstick and she doesn't know what she's talking about so when our car broke down in the middle of fucking no where, Georgia I was ready to throw that damn curse out into the highway. This was 8 hours into the trip. By the time we reached Atlanta my back had molded to the seat and I'm pretty sure I had a severe case of Scoliosis. I was hungry, bored, and in a terrible mood. I had made it to the front seat, finally. My sister and her boyfriend had driven home and I was with my parents. My mom was at the wheel, I was in the passenger seat, and my dad was passed out on my pillow pet. We were barreling down the interstate heading towards our house when I saw something in the road. It looked sort of like a plastic bag.. only it turned out to be a lot more durable and a lot more aerodynamic. We hit that bitch and whatever it was made giant BOOM and I watched it fly out from under our car and rip the bumper off the car behind us. It fucking RIPPED. THE. BUMPER. OFF. My mom was flipping her shit. I was like "Uh.. mom.. their bumper is flapping in the wind.." and she floored it the fuck out of there. Fortunately, we made it home in one piece and I can absolutely say that the Griswold's don't have shit on us.

"I want someone to take an ape out of the zoo, throw it into the water and be like BITCH, TURN INTO A MERMAID."

I was going to write a post about the rest of my vacation, but that will have to wait because I watched TV last night. Since Direct TV fucking took away Spongebob, I found myself watching Mermaid: The Body Found on the Discovery Channel at 9:00 last night. My best friend was over watching it with me. We expected it to be really cool because, you know, it was on the Discovery Channel. They usually air cool shit. WRONG.

The beginning was promising. There was a whale beaching and a cool phone video that some kids had taken and then a recording of a "leaking" of a clip inside the Navy. The music was suspenseful and hands popped out of nowhere. We were excited. But rather than continue to be awesome, it went back 10 million years into an animated version of what they think happened. This is pretty much how that went:

In a nutshell, the scientists described how we, as humans, have evolved from land dwelling apes to sea dwelling.. apes. Okaaaay. But it gets better. I'm paraphrasing here, but it went something like this: A group of land apes branched off from another group of land apes and decided to go hang out by the ocean. They chilled out there for a couple thousand years and most of them drowned because they didn't have the right equipment, but over time they were eventually good enough in bed to pop out babies that had less and less hair. And after that their children had tails and flippers and could hold their breath under water and then they had tails and that's how mermaids were created. Because that makes a whole lot of fucking sense.

Hey, John! You got your flippers yet? NOT YET ASSBAG.

We spent the entire night disproving their credibility based on the absolute ridiculousness of the situation.

At one point in the documentary, the scientists were down in South America.. South Africa? Something like that and they took x-rays of a body that they had found. They brought in a specialist to look at the legs who stated that he noticed that the pelvis looked similar to that of a human. He then realized that he had the film TURNED THE WRONG WAY and flipped it upside down to discover that these creatures used to walk on land. Uh, what? Between these people there is probably 50 years of schooling and NO ONE realized that they had the x-ray turned upside-fucking-down? Sir, you have a doctorate. You study marine life for a living and you did not know that you had the films upside down? YOU HAVE WASTED THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS ON YOUR EDUCATION, YOU DUMB FUCK. This really upset my friend, who just got out of school to be a dental assistant. She was like "YOU DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS UPSIDE DOWN? I TAKE X-RAYS. I AM A CERTIFIED X-RAY TECHNICIAN. I CAN TELL YOU WHICH TOOTH IS IN YOUR MOUTH AND I TOOK A FUCKING 10 WEEK CLASS."

I don't see how all of this is true or how it could be true. I just spent a week in Florida. Why don't I have scales? Or a tan? I sure as fuck didn't adapt while I was down there. I ended up looking like a lobster, but that doesn't count.

In all honesty, I truly believe there could be stuff out there. I have family members that are very familiar with the outdoors who have seen things they can't explain, but those creatures are on this planet because God was like MERMAIDS? OKAY. SASQUATCH? BOOM. And if we did evolve it was because God was like EVOLUUUUUTIONNNNNN!!! And not because our ancestors used to live in trees and then swam through them.

That is one ugly motherfucker. 

My God. People are stupid.

Enter the Griswold family vacation.

I am writing this post from my phone as my sister, her boyfriend, my cousin and I are barreling down the road at 80 miles per hour in a four car caravan. It is 5:14 in the morning. I have had 45 minutes of sleep. My sister hasn't had any. Welcome to the first installment of what can only be described as a Griswold family vacation.

We are on our way to New Smyrna Beach in the Sunshine State. "We" includes my family and 31 others. Yes, there are 37 of us in this vacation. We left at 3:45 this morning. It is a 9 hour drive. My sister is at the wheel - running on about 15 minutes of sleep. I am in the back seat praying to the good lord above that we don't go careening off the side of the road into a firey death. I don't like energy drinks, but I purchased one anyway because if I am going to die, I am going to die screaming at her ass.

We are almost two hours into our trip and I know, without a doubt, that this vacation is going to drive me to drinking. That will be difficult since both my parents have a strict policy against underage drinking. It goes along the lines of "fuck no." There was a drink mixed before we left our house and I just had to try it. I don't know what it's really called, but I have been describing it as tasting like unicorns and Jesus for two days. Fortunately for me, my parents know I generally don't like alcohol which makes sneaking cup or six of that much easier. Or at least I hope it does. Because if it doesn't I'll be doing 100 to life.

My dad is the tail end of this little conga line and he's already called me twice to have me tell my sister how to drive and I just LOVE relaying messages between people. We've driven through what smells similar to the inside of a skunks asshole, and I think someone in this car has shit their pants. I've said "fuck" more times than I usually would by 5 am and I have a feeling I'm going to be making up words by the end of the day.

Here's to my sanity and may we all return in mostly one piece. Part two will come up as soon as something interesting happens. I have a feeling that will be sooner than later.

I'm going to be a Disney movie.. only with more cats and less Dalmations.

There is an incredible lack of genuinely good men in the dating pool. Hell, at this point I'd settle for marginally good or maybe even "meh.. he'll do." Unfortunately, I don't even know if that exists anymore.. which is why you will see me on Animal Hoarders about 15 years from now.

I don't expect any man to bend over backwards to do things for me. I am nobody's princess or any of that bullshit. But past relationships have caused me to add a few things to the list of things that you can't be.

Don't fuck up those Vows. 
Yes. That is unfortunately a requirement. I don't know how many 19 year old girls have to deal with married men, but two in the last 3 years is enough for me. I don't want anything to do with that shit. Ladies, please. Keep your dick on a leash. It will help your relationship and I won't go bat shit crazy. Jesus Christ.

"Mom" isn't in my vocabulary. 
I love kids. I can't wait to have them, and cuddle them, and buy them cute clothes. I love babies. They are soft and adorable and they smell good all. the. time. But I don't want to have one right now. I'll babysit, but I want to give it back at the end of the day. I've got things to see and people to do. Hell, I can't even legally drink alcohol for another two years. I sure as shit don't need anyone calling me "momma."   

If you have been booked, keep on booking it. 
Sigh. I am a pretty good kid. I don't do drugs. I've never been drunk. I'm only a super speeder 85% of the time. I can't be bringing a boy home to daddy and have to explain that record. I'd have a better chance dating Hugh Hefner. 

If I wanted something attached to my hip, I'd buy another belt. 
I am an independent person. I don't need to talk to you every minute of every day. I don't need to see you every afternoon. I don't need you to be with me all the time. It was cute when you told me you missed me the first time. And it was still cute when you told me that you really liked me. That's nice. But when you told me that the 17th time and it hindered normal conversation.. nope. Not cool anymore. I will not be another human beings reason to exhale. 


Thou shalt not be a chauvinist assbag. 
Women birthed you, mother fucker. We can do anything you can do better. Except pee standing up. I know how to work a saw, I know where the business end of a drill is, I can clean my rifle just fine, and if I want to put a 4 inch skyjacker lift on my jeep with Flowmaster exhaust and some Mickey Thompson wheels I'm going to do it. The only thing I NEED you to do is to be around to open a pickle jar and kill spiders. Because women's rights aren't worth dick if I can't ask a man to do my bug squashing. 


I don't think that I ask for much. I just want a nice guy with a great sense of humor. And he has to like puppies. Unfortunately the only good men ages 17-30 are taken, married, or gay. I can't date anyone old enough to be my dad. So rather than looking for love in all the wrong places, I'm going to devote my time to collecting an enormous number of cats. Wish me luck. Because I hate cats. 

  

I hope your character traits skip a generation.

I accept everybody for who they are. I guess that's why people are drawn to telling me things or doing things around me because they know I won't care...which is mostly true. I do just go along with it. It's your life. But there are things that people do around me that leave me feeling like I need to take a shower. Honestly. What the fuck?

People with NO concept of personal space:
This gets me every. single. time. I'm not talking about strangers that scoot up next to you on a bench, or walk too closely behind you, although that is irritating. I'm referring to the people that find it necessary to lay on you, hug on you, touch you, and ESPECIALLY the people that talk two inches away from your face.

I have this guy in my art class that LOVES to come up behind me and lay his head on my shoulder and watch me text or play games on my phone before class begins. Uh... hello? Do I go and lay my head on people's shoulders? No. Should you? NO.

My cousin finds it necessary to lay on me, have her feet on me, and wrap her arms around me when she's sitting on the sofa beside me. WE ARE ON THE SAME PIECE OF FURNITURE. THAT IS CLOSE ENOUGH, DAMN YOU. No amount of shifting positions causes this to go away. They just move with you.

Close talkers are the worst. They lean their bodies awkwardly and breathe hot air on your face. It's worst when they have eaten what must be rotten asshole with a side of fries for lunch and their breath smells like Satan himself took a shit. You can't back away. They just come closer. Excuse me. No, no I do not want to see what's stuck in your molars from the past 18 years of feeding. Nor do I want to wipe the condensation off my face from your rank ass breath. GET AWAY.

Too Much Detail. 
There are people that we are friends with and those strangers that just don't know when enough is enough.  I know secrets about people that they are probably not comfortable telling themselves. 

Sex is a main topic. I am comfortable talking about sex. It's a natural thing. Everyone does it. If you want to tell me that you and your boyfriend had sex last night, great! Good for you! I'm so glad. Maybe you'll stop being a raging bitch. But for the love of God, I do not need to know the raunchy, disturbing details of  your sex life. I do not need to know how he turned sideways and you about fell off the damn sofa because it felt so good. I do not need to know that you probably should give your boyfriend more blow jobs because you have slacked off in the last couple months. I don't need to know that you really do enjoy taking it in the ass because it's a different feel and sometimes even when you don't plan it "It just happens. It kind of slips in." Nope. No.. I don't believe that is something that I need to know. I don't. But I do know. So I'm just going to laugh with you and pretend that I'm not absolutely horrified.

Personal Hygiene. 
This is apparently lost on people. It's horrible. They stink. They are grimy. The grease in their hair could line a popcorn bucket. This is not okay. Bathe. For the love of all things Holy. BATHE.


I understand that these things are character traits. I do. But just because I accept you for who you are doesn't mean that I have given up all hope of your improvement.