McRoad Rage

Today I was going through the drive-thru at a popular fast food McChain. I don't want to name McNames, but my dining experience was less than McSatisfactory. First of all they had the two-lane drive-thru. This means that all of the McBastards driving SUVs take up so much room that neither lane can move up enough for the next person to order. Of course, today of all days I was in a huge hurry to get back to work. I placed my McOrder and went to move up. As I was inching up, I heard someone say "Woah!" It was the guy in front of me. He said it the way cowboys say "woah" to their horses when they want them to stop. He was a hick with a handlebar mustache in an old junky jeep. And he was "woah"-ing me. Who the hell is he to "woah" me?!? Luckily, the weather was nice today and his window was down and I was able to first tell him off, then proceed to say "woah" in a mocking tone every time he inched his car up in line. It provided a lot of amusement for me!

Now, regarding my McFast food experience, I'd like to throw two questions out there into the universe:

First of all, when the automated greeting plays at the menu, (you know, the one that says "Welcome to McFast Food Restaurant, would you like to try a McSuper deluxe combo with cheese?") are you supposed to (a) reply to it, then wait awkwardly for the real person to ask for your order or (b) ignore the automated greeting and just place your order after it is done without waiting?

I usually do (a) but I always feel kind of dumb replying to an automated greeting. Yet it does ask you a question. I feel rude not replying in case the real person can hear me. When the real person does come on, sometimes they sound impatient when they ask me what I want, which makes me wonder if I'm not supposed to wait for them to come on the speaker and ask.

My second question is why is it that when I ask for no pickle, no mustard on my McCheeseburger, those McBastards give me extra ketchup and onions? Just because I don't want pickles or mustard doesn't mean that I automatically want more of the other crap!

Just thought I'd McAsk.

Daewoo-hoo!!!

I recently saw the movie "Pineapple Express" and was super-psyched about a particular aspect of the ending. Now, this isn't a huge spoiler, as I'm not going to reveal any other details, but if you are one of those whiny people who freaks out about knowing anything about a movie they have not seen, stop reading. Ok? Good. Now, at the end of the movie, a certain character kills another character by smashing into him/her with his Daewoo and then yells out the line, "You just got killed by a Daewoo Lanos, mother fu%$er!" I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pee my pants. It was not just the line, it's the context. I have a Daewoo Nubira, and for years people have made fun of me for having this wierd car that no one had ever heard of and that almost no one else owned. Ok, ok, the Daewoo is kind of the Edsel of its day. However, now all of you can bow down to me because the Daewoo has achieved pop-culture fame and will go down in history as a bad-ass weapon in a very funny movie! Go see it and show some respect next time my car comes screeching by!

Suck it, Dream Cruise!

Ok, as I sat down to write this blog, I first tried to think of an eloquent title. But after wasting an hour of my life in hellish traffic, it all comes down to the above sentiment.

For those of you not local to Detroit, aka the Motor City, we have an event here called the "Woodward Dream Cruise". It is supposed to be a one day event that allows the middle-aged to remember the good old days when they used to "cruise" up and down the main thoroughfare in the metro Detroit area, Woodward Avenue. All of the grease monkeys and blue collar types dust off their classic cars for the event and thousands of people line Woodward and just watch these classic cars drive South. Then North. Then South. Then North again. Yeah. It's that exciting. It's supposed to be full of fun and nostalgia, but in reality it is just a huge waste of time and gasoline. Picture a rush hour traffic jam and then throw in some classic cars. That's about it. And it goes on for days. It is supposed to be one day. But really, it lasts about a week.

One week. One full week of gridlock traffic and stupid over-the-hill men and their granny wives pretending to be sixteen again in big shiny cars going way under the speed limit so that people can see their big shiny cars. (Hmmm...could these guys be compensating for something else they're lacking? I think so.)

One full week of morons lined up alongside the road chugging beers and sitting in lawn chairs watching intently and taking pictures of whatever they may see, be it cute young girls in teeny tiny tops, bright red classic convertibles, or me, in my non-classic car, screaming at the top of my lungs, having a nervous breakdown. Today I think I actually scared a few of the on-lookers.

I hate you Dream Cruise, I hate you!!! All you do is cause traffic and crowds and noise and pollution and litter and disorderly conduct!! Every year the hellicopters hover over my house so that I feel like I'm living in a war zone. Every year I worry that I'll be screwed in case of a medical emergency because no ambulance is going to be able to navigate through the sea of stupid that is Woodward Avenue on Dream Cruise day.

Someday I will move far, far away from Detroit and then every year on Dream Cruise day I will drink a glass -- ok, a bottle -- of wine and eat some chocolate and think about how peaceful it is to not be surrounded by thousands of boozing, cruising morons.

In the meantime, I'm Meri the Strange. Go fu@% yourself, Motor City!

I actually DO loves it. Huh.

I think I was wrong. And that doesn't happen often. I actually think I misjudged Ms. Hilton. First I accidentally discover that her debut musical album isn't so bad (must wash the shame away...I scrub and scrub!), and then I see this video she's made "running for president". And all of a sudden I have respect for the girl. She has humor, she has timing. And I actually think that there may be a few brain cells rattling around up there.

Think I'm crazy? (I mean, more than usual?) Well, watch this video and judge for yourself. I think it's the best political ad I've ever seen. Bravo, Skankerella. Bravo.

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

Bad Kwame, Bad!

Well, I'm sure any of you detroiters out there have already heard the happy news. Our beloved (ha-ha) Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick is in jail. They threw him in the slammer this morning for breaking his bond and going over to Canada. Wait. What? Seriously? After ALL of the crap that this guy has done to not only break the law, but flaunt his law-breakin' ways, he gets arrested for a bond violation? Geez. It's like Capone getting busted for tax evasion!

In honor of this momentous occasion, the city of Detroit (ok, maybe just the Woolly part of the city of Detroit) has officially named today Hoosgow Day!

Now, I'm sure they're going to throw Mayor McCheese in his own plush cell complete with cell phone, pimp clothes, and plenty of booze and women. However I'm going to picture him in a rat-infested cell being eye-balled by big guys named Bubba like a fresh side of beef. It just feels more like karma that way.


Happy Hoosgow Day!

Dum De Dum Dum...Wha?

This is exactly what I was saying aloud to myself as I pleasantly waited for the results of my 'How Evil Are You?' test that was posted on Woolly's sister blog, Woollymom.com.

The "wha?" part comes from the result. My sister, who is like me in almost every way, was 56% Evil. I figured, hey, I'll be right around there. Maybe a smidgeon higher. But just a smidgeon.

Then I see this:

You Are 72% Evil

You are very evil. And you're too evil to care. Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

How Evil Are You?

Seriously? I'm that evil? Man. Who knew that people feared me. And who knew that I would secretly find that cool. At this moment I am torn between being ashamed of myself and being oddly proud. Take the test yourself. I know you'll enjoy it!

Giraffe Sweatshirts and Bunny Shoes

As I was wandering aimlessly through the mall the other day lamenting the fact that I have no money to spend on anything other than gas and bills, I happened upon the most adorable little clothing article. I immediately knew that it would be the perfect addition to my new fall back-to-school wardrobe. In fact, it would be the only addition to my new fall back-to-school wardrobe. This item was none other than a Giraffe Sweatshirt from Pacific Sunwear or "PacSun" as you cool kids call it. I am not cool. Maybe the proof is that I love, love, love this sweatshirt. Not only could I walk around looking like a giraffe, but this sweatshirt was so soft, it felt like buttah! My friend scoffed when I showed him the sweatshirt, but I know its cool and that someday we will be together.

Upon exiting the store, right in the middle of daydreaming about winning the lottery and being able to do fun things like dye my hair blue and own a giraffe sweatshirt, I remembered another cool animal fashion that I had recently been dreaming of. In the same mall, just a few stores down, I had spotted Bunny Shoes! Way cooler than bunny slippers, I think you'll agree! The store no longer has them, but I found them online. And someday they will be mine. Oh yes. They will be mine. Or, you know, they'll be out of stock by the time I save up the money for them. And before you speak up about a certain holiday with a big jolly fat guy, I've already planned what I want for Christmas. These goodies would have to be pushed back to Christmas List 2010.

No someday, dear readers, I will walk proudly across my college campus sporting bunny shoes and a giraffe sweatshirt. I believe in miracles. Send out some good thoughts for me, though, too. You know, just in case all the miracles go to the stupid people with incurable diseases and family tragedies and such.

Evil, Thy Name Is Sylvia

It's been a few days since I have posted on my new beloved blog because of some very sad personal things I have been going through the past few days, which I will share with all of you when I am ready.

In the meantime, I would like to give a long overdue shout out to a wonderful man named Robert S. Lancaster. I don't know him personally, but I am very familiar with his work. He is the creator of one of my favorite internet sites, StopSylviaBrowne.com.

I'll cut to the chase here: Sylvia Browne is the devil. She pretends to be a psychic and scams misguided, grieving families out of their hard-earned cash. She doesn't even do a very good job of hiding it!

I have hated Sylvia Browne for ages. I can't believe how successful she continues to be. It's disturbing. StopSylviaBrowne.com is amazing, though. It debunks her in a way that is so thorough and even-handed, even the most devoted of her fans will have trouble explaining the inconsistencies.

Please visit the site and spread the word. Sylvia Browne is pure evil and must be destroyed (DISCLAIMER: Of course I mean professionally and financially destroyed. I in no way wish physical harm upon her.)