If it wasn’t for us, you’d all be speaking [insert language here].

Posted on Nov 22, 2019 by headinablender

I’ve seen so many stupid and idiotic car stickers since living in Las Vegas, and whenever I see them I judge the driver, hate them through the windscreen [windshield], and move on with my life.

However, I recently saw a car sticker that annoyed me on so many levels, I just had to share it with you.

Or, maybe it’s because the sticker was printed in English?

Just a thought.

In fact, if I WAS reading it in another language, that would be another reason to thank a teacher, wouldn’t it?

Surely?

(shrugs)

Now, I’m not arrogant enough to misunderstand the sentiment of supporting the troops; I’m all for it. In fact, one of my best friends has three children in the Navy, but the jingoism of this sticker made my bum twitch.

However, as I was sat in traffic behind this numpty, and waiting 3 hours for the lights to turn any colour other than red, my mind wandered and I started thinking…

Maybe people don’t realise that even if the USA loses every single conflict they’re engaged in, we will STILL be speaking English. This is because – and prepare yourself for a massive revelation that will change your life – no-one is invading and occupying America.

At least, not yet.

Although, all joking aside, Maybe it really is believed, by many, that if the USA is forced out of the Middle East, everyone in America has to start speaking Pashto or Dari.

If that’s the case….زه بیرته انګلستان ته ځم

(Oh yeah, this guy knows how to use Google Translate)

Sick of commuting

Posted on Dec 28, 2018 by headinablender

On the drive into work this morning, I was stopped at a red light. This was unusual because, oh…wait…no it wasn’t.

I hate red lights.

There were three or four cars in front of me as we all sat there for around half an hour waiting for the fucking lights to go green. After a few minutes the driver in front of me opened their¹ car door and appeared to vomit directly onto the tarmac.

Classy.

Then again, this is Las Vegas during the days between Christmas and New Year, so I suppose it’s not that unusual, right? There is a lot of drinking going on around this time.

What concerned me the most was that I was worried more about rolling my tyres [tires] through their previous evening’s poor fast food choices than the fact the driver might still be drunk.

Then it occurred to me that maybe the driver hadn’t been sick at all, but had simply dumped out their coffee cup.

That made more sense as I could see there was a little bit of steam rising from the dark puddle of questionable fluid slowly spreading out across the road.

Then the lights turned green and the traffic started to move.

As I approached the puddle of coffee I decided to drive around it, no longer concerned about the level of inebriation of the driver, but by the fact the ‘coffee’ appeared to have some lumps of – I want to say – carrot?

So, not fast food then.

Which is it? You be the judge….

1 – I didn’t see the driver, so let’s play the pronoun game!

Stick it to me, baby.

Posted on Dec 5, 2018 by headinablender

I get stuck in traffic a lot, especially when commuting to and from work because, well, there are more idiots on the road at those times (myself included¹). As a result, I get the joyous and underwhelming opportunity to read the various stickers people adorn their cars with.

And they use them a lot in America!

From the Jesus fish…

Jesus, would you look at these!?

…and the ‘My offspring is serving in the Army/Navy/Air Force’…

Everyone gets a participation trophy

…to the various forms of ‘Coexist’ I’ve seen.

Holy Idealism, Batman!

But nothing sums up ignorance like the two stickers I have seen a lot of recently.

And no, it’s not a collection of pointlessly stupid stick figures of family members.

Get ’em Darth! GET ‘EM!

No, these stickers are as follows:

If you don’t have the same views as me, I will shoot you

And this one:

Be nice to each other, or so help me I will kill you.

I get the feeling these stickers are supposed to portray pride and like-minded thinking in this fine country, but they’re pretty aggressive if you ask me (and this is a statement from a thick skinned Brit living in the land of the thin skinned…so that’s saying something!)

For me, it boils down to this:

“If y’all ain’t gon’ be wit’ us, then we’s gon’ shoot y’all….so help me God”

(I’m sure he won’t).

These stickers aren’t a display of Patriotism; they’re Jingoism at it’s most prevalent.

Maybe this would be more appropriate?

Seems about right

So remember, if you won’t share this post with all your friends and family, then feel free to…erm….feel free to….er….not?

1 – Not true.

A truck filled with wood, plastic and all things irony

Posted on Sep 5, 2017 by headinablender

This morning I was driving behind a pick up truck filled to capacity with an assortment of ladders, poles, planks, pointy metal things, tubing, plastic containers and other dooberrywhatsits I couldn’t describe if my life depended on it.

One of the things I CAN describe is the big white sticker on the back that read ‘Safety Is My Number One Goal’.

I noticed this sticker just before he violently mounted the central reservation (median) and nearly scattered indescribable carnage across the road like the dramatic end of a drunken Jenga match.

So that was terrifying.

Jesus Trucking Christ

Posted on Aug 8, 2017 by headinablender

My wife and I were in traffic when we saw these two rival gardening and landscaping trucks side by side.

The one on the left appears to be heavily influenced by religion.

But that’s nothing…

With the one on the right, you get to actually speak to Jesus.

Who you gonna call?

The Tale Of The Baffling Barista

Posted on Jul 24, 2017 by headinablender

My wife and I work the same shift at the same company, and that shift starts at 5am. As a result, we’re usually very sleepy during the drive into work. I have to say, it makes the other drivers nervous when they look over and see us both snoring, heads back, drooling.

This morning my wife felt the desire for Starbucks coffee and she asked^[1] if we could stop at a drive through [or ‘drive-thru’ for all my American chums out there].

Of course.

We pulled up behind a car already in the queue [line] ordering their coffee. Soon enough, after a brief 3 hours, the car finally moved and we rolled up to the microphone.

The speaker crackled into life.

“Welcome to Starbucks”

“Hi”, we both replied in sleepy unison.

“Yeah, we’re actually not open right now.”, came the lacklustre response in that inimitable style that made it sound like a question.

“Oh….OK. Never mind, thank you”

We looked at each other, shrugged and started to drive off. Unfortunately we couldn’t go far as the car in front of us was at the next window waiting for their coffee.

We couldn’t get around them and, despite my wife’s insistence I beep my horn and ‘urge’ them to move the fuck out of the way, I decided to reverse back along the drive through lane as there were no cars behind us…..at 4:30am on a Monday.

I wonder why.

Anyway, as we reversed back past the microphone/speaker we could hear the woman babbling something over the intercom, so we stopped.

“Welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?”

We looked at each other again, but this time in total confusion. My wife leaned across me and said, “Wait….I thought you said you were closed.”

The speaker crackled back into life, “No, I said we we’re not open right now.”

Wait, isn’t that the same thing?

The speaker continued to crackle with attitude as the woman told us why they weren’t open yet; something about waiting for something or whatever….I don’t know. Anyway, her tedious tale concluded with her asking if she could take our order.

Maybe it was the fact we were half asleep and devoid of caffeine, but she made no sense whatsoever.

So if you’re reading this and you’re not from the USA, take note…..’Not Open‘ and ‘Closed‘ mean different things over here….apparently.

Just like ‘Starbucks Barista‘ and ‘Testy Imbecile‘.

He he, ‘Testy’

[1] Demanded

My parking is a cut above the rest

Posted on Jan 14, 2017 by headinablender

Last night I decided to get my hair cut because I was starting to look like 1973.

So I drove to the barber shop, spied a parking space and parked in it. The space was a bit tight (smirk), but I slipped in with ease (even smirkier)

Exciting story so far, right?

I got out of my car and started walking towards the barber shop when I heard a voice behind me.

I whirled around^[1] and saw a little old lady sat behind the wheel of one of the cars I just pulled up next to. She smiled at me and repeated whatever indecipherable thing she said.

“Pardon?” I said to her, very politely and Englishly.

She cleared her throat and tried again, “You a good driver! I seen 3 people try and park there and give up. You a good driver!”[sic].

“Thanks!” I replied smugly.

Little did she know I often fuck up parking my unnecessarily long American sedan like a cock. Yet I STILL do better than the local drivers here in Las Vegas.

As they say…in a land of twats, the dick is king^[2].

Llllllllike a glove!

[1] Who whirls? I just turned around normally.

[2] No-one says this.

2017 is already a crazy ride!

Posted on Jan 1, 2017 by headinablender

Before I start……Happy New Year!!!!!

It’s New Year’s day and I’m working.

My shift started at 4am, so I had to leave the house around 3am. This meant driving through post-New Year crowds and traffic….in Las Vegas.

This is what I encountered:

A mere 45 seconds into my drive an oncoming car veered into my lane for about 10 seconds before realising they were on the wrong side of the road. I had to stop the car otherwise I would have hit them!

A multitude of cars were drifting between lanes without any indicators [turn signals] or awareness of others around them.

A few cars straddling lanes for extended periods of time.

Lots and lots of red lights. Seriously, I was at a set of red lights for almost 5 minutes, with no other cars going through the green lights on the cross street!

A truck stopped in the middle of the road, blocking everyone. No reason that I could see. Also, no driver that I could see.

Lots and lots of cars cutting each other up/off. One driver was so impatient at a red light that he moved into the ‘Right Turn Only‘ lane and then when the lights went green he went straight, cutting up the driver to his left just to get in front. He pulled over and parked 100 yards later.

Lots of loud, drunk people teetering on the edge of the pavement [sidewalk] threatening to walk out in front of my car.

Now, this was the first time I had EVER had to drive to work on New Year’s day in Las Vegas. I couldn’t believe the experience compared to my normal commute…..

It was no different.

Here kiddy, kiddy, kiddy.

Posted on Dec 2, 2016 by headinablender

There is a little known fact that American children are made of glass.

It’s true; they’re such delicate little snowflakes that the mere thought of them near danger results in the country childproofing everything!

“Think of the children!”

I’d rather not; you can get arrested for that shit.

Nothing demonstrates this more than the roads outside schools. There are big signs indicating a ‘School Zone’ with yellow lights that, when flashing, indicate you must slow down to the speed limit shown on the sign.

The Police are VERY vigilant of this I’ve been told. After all, “Think of the children!”

These speed limits vary from 25 mph all the way down to ‘Get out of your car and push it‘, and start about 30 miles outside the ‘School Zone’. “Think of the children!”

At face value this is a great idea, but I have never EVER seen an unsupervised child cross the street outside a school. This isn’t The Goonies. In fact, I’ve never even SEEN a child outside a school when the lights are flashing.

Ever.

Oh, wait, that’s not true. I have seen kids outside when the school kicks out.

Hundreds of little miracles, hands firmly held by their parents or being loaded into cages. At these times there are Lollipop men/women (crossing guards) walking out into the street, slowing and stopping the traffic. These people make the flashing signs redundant.

Take a look at this..

This is a Google street view of the school I actually attended as a 7 year old boy in England, with a school I go past regularly here in Vegas (and the inspiration for this post).

Anyone for Frogger?

Back in my day (insert Yorkshire accent here) you left school and crossed the street between parked cars by looking both ways before doing so. It was called ‘common sense’, or ‘not wanting to be splattered by an oncoming car’. The speed limit was (and still is) 30 mph. It’s slow enough to stop if a child runs out, and fast enough to speed up if a child runs out. We like choices.

But in America we have to drive 15 mph in case, god forbid, an unattended child should run out of the school, across the vast car park (parking lot), past the planters and shrubs and onto the wide open road that has no parked cars obstructing them from view.

Seriously, I could be doing 70 mph and see these little angels coming.

I’d have to work really hard to actually hit one. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Those fuckers are fast.

In this mollycoddling nation of snowflakes and participation trophies, the little lambs are never let out of the sight of their parents who usher them from the school building to their oversized SUVs like a celebrity leaving a nightclub.

So why do we all have to slow down from a measly 35 mph to an awkward kiddy-fiddling kerb crawl? I get nervous when I have to drive by a school slowly, especially with only one hand on the wheel.

10 to 2.

Eyes straight.

But seriously, where is that healthy respect for traffic we all had growing up? What happened to looking both ways when crossing the road? Where is the Green Cross Code?

People need to ‘Stop‘, ‘Look‘ and ‘Listen‘.

Instead they ‘Don’t Stop‘, ‘Don’t Look‘ and ‘Sue‘.

In every country in the world, pedestrians need to watch out for oncoming traffic…but in America, traffic has to watch out for oncoming pedestrians. It’s ridiculous! I know I’ve touched on this before, but it baffles me how backward this is.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big advocate for road safety…..but not as much as I am for natural selection.

Here kiddy, kiddy, kiddy.

Car Wash Catastrophe

Posted on Nov 13, 2016 by headinablender

The last couple of times I’ve used an automated car wash, the steel tracks that your wheels sit in have pulled off some rubber thingies on the bottom of my car. Apparently these rubber thingies are there to make the car more aerodynamic.

I can’t tell the difference if I’m honest, but they’re left hanging loose, flapping in the wind like Ron Jeremy but not as entertaining.

Bloody annoying!

In an attempt to avoid buying new ‘pop rivets’ to reattach said rubber thingies after potentially every car wash, I’ve been on the search for a manual or hand car wash. Even the ‘100% Hand Car Wash’ places I’ve discovered have you drive your wheels into the same big ol’ steel tracks.

I think the concept of percentage is lost on some people.

Anyway, I recently found a manual jet wash place that allows you to wash the car yourself with a multitude of water guns and hoses and settings and stuff.

Fun!

So, last night I parked the car up in the jet wash bay, swiped my card through the card swipey thing and got to work; prewash, soap, rinse, wax, spot-free rinse, triple coat and air hose. I was having a whale of a time.

Except….

I was there for almost 20 minutes, the car was still dirty in places that I’d missed with the brush under the thick, frothy, jizzy foam and the car windows now look like the aftermath of a bukkake scene. Needless to say, I’m not happy.

I guess I have to bite the bullet and use an automated car wash again. I can’t drive around with a car that looks like a plasterer’s radio.

Oh, and if my parents are reading this….do NOT Google bukkake.

Ever.

The sweet taste of idiocy

Posted on Oct 4, 2016 by headinablender

My local gym has a multitude of TV screens scattered all over the place. At face value you would think they’re for entertainment purposes, but it appears they’re just another way to push products down our throats between crappy music videos and advertising for tattoo removal and a boutique that will trim your minge.

They make me angry (commercials, not minges), which actually fuels my workout, so no complaints there.

Anyway, this morning one of the screens had something I just had to write about. The screen read:

‘Latest news: Studies have shown that Americans consume too much sugar, a majority of which is found in sugary drinks.’

I literally stopped working out, mid set, mouth agape. Was I really seeing this? Is this really latest news?

Mind you, I was drinking Coke Zero at a party recently and a friend of mine asked what it was.

I took a moment to compose myself and told him that it was sugar free (and full of chemicals that will probably give you cancer, but hey….thin is good, right?) and has no calories. He couldn’t believe it. He had a sip and said “where has this been all my life!?”.

On a shelf in the supermarket mate, next to the full fat shit that you and everyone else buys.

(Don’t even get me started on the elusive nature of diet drinks in the US. That’s a post for another time).

Anyway, the ‘Latest News‘ continued:

‘Some experts have said that too much sugar can lead to cases of obesity and diabetes”

Can lead? CAN lead?? WILL lead, you fat twats! And how come it’s ‘some‘ experts saying this? What about the other experts who think sugar is OK?

But who am I to judge? Maybe these experts are right and sugar ISN’T responsible for America having the largest (pun intended) population of obese people in the world and the highest cases of diabetes.

Chances are president Obama is to blame, or Al-Queda; they seem to be the scapegoats of choice nowadays.

Ooh, political!

Before this gets all serious and preachy, here’s a palette cleanser.

A car in front of me on the freeway this morning had ‘We are currently hiring excellent drivers‘ advertised across the back of it, just as it drifted across three lanes and left the freeway without indicating.

Ah, Americans. I seriously fucking love ’em!

ShoSho-wing too much

Posted on Sep 27, 2016 by headinablender

This weekend my wife and I took a road trip to northern Nevada. It was awesome and NOT the basis of today’s blog…don’t worry. This isn’t a travel blog after all; I only write about shit that either A) happens to me, B) pisses me off, or C) has a combination of A and B.

There are a lot of C’s in this blog, I can tell you.

(insert smirky face here)

Anyway, back to my reason for today’s post. On the way back from the land of fucking nothing for miles and miles, we detoured to a natural warm spring in Duckwater.

This warm spring has been referred to as the largest in the United States and is located on land owned by the Shoshone Indian tribe.

In essence, this place is in the middle of fucking NOWHERE.

After turning off the main highway, it was another million miles along a road that I can only describe as the beginning of almost every horror movie ever. This was followed by a gravel ‘road’ that eventually led to the warm springs and the need for repair to the underside of your car.

We didn’t see another vehicle in either direction for almost an hour. Not one. I was genuinely fucking scared.

Here are the warm springs on Google maps.

Zoom out. Seriously, do it.

Do you see just how much ‘fuck all’ there is around?

I wasn’t joking when I say we saw NO-ONE!

As we parked up in the completely desolate parking lot (or ‘area of gravel’), another car suddenly pulled up next to us. Wait, what? Where did they come from?

Out of the car jumped two young ladies who, it soon became abundantly clear, were more than just friends. I was a little bit disappointed at their arrival because I was looking forward to romantically dipping in the warm spring with my wife. It wasn’t a huge ask, considering the fact it was in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and had taken us an hour and a half out of our way, but that’s fine. No, really, it’s FINE!

I shot my wife a look that said “For fuck’s sake!” while our new friends chattered to each other as they merrily collected their shit from their car and joyfully trotted to the water’s edge.

Oh well, it was what it was. To be honest, it was still lovely. My wife and I had a bit of a swim, joined by our friends (who aren’t just friends) and we even had a bit of a laugh and joke with them. I couldn’t really be a complete dick about them being there too because, after all, we were also interrupting their romantic warm spring dip.

After half an hour or so my wife and I decided to get out as we had a 4 hour drive back to Vegas. We picked up our stuff by the side of the springs and walked back to the car, dripping sacred Shoshone water all over sacred Shoshone land. When we got to the car I looked around and saw nothing was coming from miles around; no glint of vehicle metal on the horizon and no dust clouds in their wake. I glanced back at the springs and our new friends were still swimming and chatting in the water.

“I’m going to change back into my clothes here”, I said to my wife, as I couldn’t be arsed to traipse back to the restroom (wooden hut) to change out of my wet swim shorts.

My wife looked around and agreed it made sense. Besides, I could hide behind the car door, away from the prying eyes of two young women who really had no interest in my penis anyway.

Behind me was just desert as far as the eye could see. I was good to go.

So I gripped the elastic waistband and dropped my shorts to the ground in one rapid movement. This was no easy feat considering they were soaked through and sticking to me like a Jewish mother.

It was quite nice to feel the cool Nevadan breeze tickle my untickled areas.

As I stood up, miraculously one of the girls was out of the water rummaging through their belongings, 10 feet away from my manhood swinging¹ freely in the breeze! I dropped to a half squat position behind the car door quicker than if I’d been swiftly kicked in the nuts. I was almost uppercutted by the door.

Is uppercutted a word? Meh, it’ll do.

I couldn’t believe this girl had decided that NOW was the time she needed her phone, cigarettes, rubber fist or whatever.

My wife was in bits with laughter.

I decided to sit inside the car and remove the rest of my shorts and in no time I was completely naked, in the middle of sacred Shoshone Indian country.

At this point my wife said, though stifled laughter “Oh, I don’t believe it.”

“What?”, I barked?

She pointed behind me and attempted some words that failed her. I turned and looked through the car windows and, sure enough, there was another car trundling down the gravel road towards us.

They were greeted by me, sat there, door open, naked and wet.

Enjoy your swim.

¹ Who am I kidding?

Oxymorons

Posted on Sep 3, 2016 by headinablender

This morning, as I drove up to the gym, I noticed several cars circling the car park (parking lot) like sharks.

I soon realised they were looking for spaces that were as close to the gym entrance as possible.

These people were actually trying to avoid having to walk too far. Now, I could understand this behaviour if it was raining or the zombie apocalypse was upon us, but this is Las Vegas; it’s nothing but sunshine and blue skies.

It’s a hard life.

What makes it more ridiculous is the fact that I saw these pillocks 20 minutes later clocking up miles on the treadmill.

Still, at least these cretins didn’t get my space right by the entrance.

Result.

A small entry (apparently)

Posted on Mar 30, 2016 by headinablender

I try to avoid posting twice in quick succession, especially since it’s been a writing drought recently, but I simply had to share this.

I was driving home from work today and, as I joined the freeway, there was a huge billboard offering ‘Vaginal Tightening’.

This was an occasion where ‘LOL’ was appropriate.

I really did. Loudly.

It was highly amusing and therefore I shared it on Facebook. I mean, it’s funny but I didn’t think it warranted a post of its own.

Anyway, as I neared home I saw a store selling alcohol; a self proclaimed outlet of alcohol, or ‘liquor’ as they called it.

Yes, that’s right, it was called ‘Liquor Outlet’.

I had to pull over before I ROFL’d into the car in front.

Give me a sign…and I will point and laugh at it.

Posted on Dec 24, 2015 by headinablender

Yesterday I was in traffic, sat behind a truck that had the slogan:

‘Behind You All The Way’.

Ah, the irony.

I was on my way to see Star Wars Episode VII : The Force Awakens for the second time.

When I got to the cinema I realised I was extremely early (like I was keen to get there, for some reason) and my man date hadn’t arrived yet. Out of boredom I began wandering around the child-filled lobby, raising suspicion with security.

My boredom took a breather when I saw this sign on the wall…

OK, so most of this is standard stuff about not bringing in your own food and switching off your phone…blah blah blah, but it was a little disturbing to read ‘no weapons’.

Does that include lightsabers?

It was scary to see that written on a sign that was NOT trying to be funny. They meant it. If you’re armed you’d better not mess with these people, they have a sign. What do you have?

Oh, wait…

But my favourite part was that they felt it necessary to advise they WILL wake you up if you’re snoring, like it’s a regular thing.

This had me laughing out loud to myself.

Security began to close in.

This, combined with the contradictory truck logo, reminded me I had two or three amusing photos on my phone that I was saving for a potential blog post in the future.

Well, now this post is that post.

Enjoy.

On the back of a camping chair (and down the front of my pants)

We need to protect the gaylords it seems….or are they there to protect us?

TV show about your mother.

Stop, America….just stop.

Posted on Dec 8, 2015 by headinablender

Last night I had an encounter with a driver that infuriated me. It’s something that happens a lot and pisses me off to a level that is unwise in a country where guns are so readily available.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is a warning; today’s post is a rant.

Ok, so….this encounter last night involved a 4-way stop junction which, in my opinion, are as effective as chipotle flavoured hemorrhoid cream.

Why the fuck can’t Americans just use roundabouts (sorry ‘traffic circles’) to maintain the flow of traffic like sensible countries? Oh yes, that’s right, apparently they’re ‘confusing’ and Americans don’t know how to use them.

I suppose I can understand that. It’s a circle. Very confusing.

After all, they have to simultaneously use TWO pedals AND a steering wheel; how could we possibly expect them to navigate anything other than a huge, wide straight road?

What was I thinking?

Now, for those who don’t know, a 4-way stop has two simple rules; The Stupid Rule and The Vague Rule.

The Stupid Rule dictates that you MUST stop, even when you can see there are no cars coming for miles and miles and miles.

Add to this the fact that 4-way stops are at almost every intersection, it makes for a very jerky drive.

Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Ad nauseum

It takes forever to get anywhere. And don’t even get me started on the speed limits.

I use the word ‘speed’ liberally, of course.

Then there’s The Vague Rule; it dictates who gets to go first. You see, it all depends on who got to the intersection first. If you’re there first, you go first.

That makes sense, right?

This never results in bell-ends (no US translation for this one) speeding up to get there seconds before you do, just so they can go first.

Never.

Ever!

However, there is one distinct fault with this rule; one that was never taken into consideration when it was apparently concocted by chimps.

People.

It didn’t factor in the sheer stupidity that people bring to the mix.

Most of the time it’s pretty easy to see who gets to the junction before or after you. If they’re stationary when you arrive, they got there first. Otherwise it’s you.

And yet, despite being easy to establish the pecking order pretty sharpish (quickly), there are still those tentative, hesitant, dribbly twats who get there before you and then don’t move, resulting in me and all the other twitchy cars wondering what they’re doing and if we should just go.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only driver shouting words of encouragement like: “GO then, you fucking turd”

In those situations I just go.

Fuck ’em.

So, was it one of these idiots I encountered last night? Oh no dear sir, it most certainly was not.

No, last night was a whole new level of dumbfuckery.

Now, before I continue, I have a little quiz for you.

Ready?

Question 1: Which indicator (turn signal) do you use when turning left?

A – Left indicator

B – Right indicator

C – Both indicators

D – No indicators

Question 2: Which indicator (turn signal) do you use when turning right?

A – Left indicator

B – Right indicator

C – Both indicators

D – No indicators

Question 3: Which indicator (turn signal) do you use when going straight ahead?

A – Left indicator

B – Right indicator

C – Both indicators

D – No indicators

The answers are: 1-A, 2-B and 3-D.

If you scored less than 100%, please click here.

Otherwise, please continue reading.

So now’s the time for me to set the scene for last night.

I approached the 4-way stop, slowed down and stopped. The car coming in the opposite direction did exactly the same, a second before me. There were no cars coming from the left or right.

It was just the two of us.

According to The Vague Rule, he had the right to enter the intersection before me. He didn’t have any indicators flashing, so he was going straight ahead, just like me.

Naturally, I entered the intersection at the same time as him because, after all, we were simply going to pass each other. Right?

Wrong.

This cocksmoker was turning left.

This meant he had to stop IN the intersection and wait for me to pass, making sure I could see ‘the error of my ways’ by slamming on his brakes and giving me that look to say I was in the wrong.

At least, that’s what I think he was doing, it was difficult to see past the limbs of his kids splatted against the windscreen (windshield).

How the fuck was I supposed to know he was turning left?

I know why I got that look; it was that ingrained sense of entitlement. It was HIS turn to go.

Regardless of whether his maneuver interfered with mine or not, it was HIS turn.

I should sit there like a good little boy and wait.

Not this little boy.

This little boy wanted to get out of his little car and punch him in his little dick.

Why do people here have such an inability to signal which direction they’re turning?

My wife tells me that Las Vegas drivers are the worst, but some of the people I work with – who come from all over the US – say it’s a nationwide epidemic. I’m starting to believe them.

It’s not like they’re driving manual cars over here. They’re not having to negotiate the clutch, the gearstick, the biting point, etc… In fact, UK drivers have all that shit to deal with AND they still manage to use their indicators.

No, here it’s a different distraction. With their free hand they’re either texting, sipping coffee or masturbating.

Like me.

This is a sign that I give a crap

Posted on Nov 30, 2015 by headinablender

Yesterday I went to get my hair cut from the same place as before.

Fuck knows why.

Oh wait, convenience…that’s why.

As expected, they pointlessly took my phone number so they could enter my details in their computer, locate my account, print off a sheet of paper, pass it to my stylist so she could read it and confirm the style I wanted.

Yep, much quicker than just asking how I want my hair cut.

Twats.

Anyway, that’s not the reason for today’s post.

Whilst driving home from the barber shop I passed a large plot of undeveloped land. Well, I say ‘undeveloped land’, but when you consider that we live on the very outskirts of Las Vegas, the words ‘undeveloped land’ actually refers to about a million miles of desert.

This ‘undeveloped land’ had a sign that read:

No Trespassing.
No Dumping.

So I jumped the fence and took a shit.

It’s all a matter of choice.

Posted on Nov 15, 2015 by headinablender

Yesterday, during a drive from Las Vegas to Riverside California, my wife and I stopped at the famous Peggy Sue’s diner for lunch.

We took a seat, ordered a couple of drinks,and perused the laminated menu full of 50’s puns and references to see what took our fancy. Soon enough the waitress came over in her 50’s diner uniform and asked us what we wanted to eat.

Mine was easy; I wanted a cheeseburger.

When my wife ordered it highlighted another big difference between the USA and the UK.

Below is an almost exact word-for-word account of the conversation my wife had whilst ordering her meal.

Waitress – “What would you like?”

My Wife – “Steak and eggs”

Waitress – “How do you want your steak?”

My Wife – “Medium”

Waitress – “How do you want your eggs?”

My Wife – “Scrambled”

Waitress – “Do you want hash browns?”

My Wife – “Yes”

Waitress – “Toast, biscuits and gravy or English muffin?”

My Wife – “Toast”

Waitress – “White, wheat or sour dough?”

My Wife – “Sour dough”

If that had been in the UK, the conversation would’ve gone something like this:

Waitress – “What would you like?”

My Wife – “Steak and eggs”

Waitress – “OK”

America 1, England 0.

America – will you ever be able to cut it?

Posted on Nov 8, 2015 by headinablender

OK, here’s an experience that a) happened about an hour ago, and b) I was not expecting.

Let’s start with some exposition…

Today I have friends coming into Vegas from the UK and, amongst my girly squeals of delight because they’re bringing Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate with them, I thought I should look at least half presentable for when we see them. After all, they’re the first visitors we’ve had since we moved to Vegas almost three months ago.

I had a few things on my ‘to do’ list this morning to prepare for their arrival. These included: Go to the gym, get petrol (gas), wash the car and get a haircut.

So I went to the gym, filled the tank (of my car; I don’t actually drive a tank…although if I did, my last post would’ve been a little less ‘ranty’ and a lot more ‘splatty’), took the car through a car wash (and vacuumed it out with the FREE vacuum cleaners they provided. Yeah I’m looking at you, Britain) and headed to the barber shop to get the ol’ noggin [1] sorted out.

I found a place called ‘Great Clips’ which, to be honest, I thought may have been a film editing company. I still wasn’t sure until I got close to the front door.

I entered and was immediately greeted by pretty much all the stylists. You’ve got to love America for that.

Now for some more exposition…

In an English barber shop you walk in, maybe nod and say hi to one or two of the stylists (if they look up) and take a seat. When one of the stylists has finished with a customer, they come over to the sitting area and say ‘who’s next?’. At this point there are slightly confused and awkward looks amongst guys pointing at each other and saying “I think it was him” because no-one is entirely sure who was next. That said, if someone, who came in after you, tries to jump in front they are quickly and politely stabbed to death with the closest scissors available.

Back to the story.

So I smile and say hi back to the stylists and turn around to take a seat. At this point a lady came over to the desk and said “Hi, have you been here before?”

“No” I said, a little unsure why that mattered.

“Ok” she replied in a voice coated in vanilla syrup, “that’s fine, if you would like to fill this in”.

Note that this wasn’t a question. She was telling me to fill in a slip of paper she’d slid across the counter with a pen.

This slip asked for the following information: Name, telephone number, address, zip code, Whether I was an Adult, Child or Senior (which is still an adult, isn’t it?) and the ages of my children.

I filled in my name and my zip code and then stopped. What was I doing? What is this? I’m here for a haircut, aren’t I? Is this so they can send me videos of my hair being cut, hence the name ‘Great Clips’?

The woman came back with her sugary smile and, me being me, I had to ask.

Me – “Sorry, I’m a bit confused here, why am I filling in all this information? I only need a haircut. I’m not unwittingly signing up for a credit card or something am I?”.

Her – “Ha ha, no it’s so we can send you coupons in the future, and the telephone number is so we can bring up your profile”.

Me – “My profile?”

Her – “Yes. It’s so we have a record of how you like to have your hair styled and if you decide to use one of the many other Great Clips in the city they will be able to bring up your details too”.

Me – “Oh, so you’re a chain? Right, gotcha.”

I said this in a tone that said “oh, right, well that makes sense then, of COURSE you can have all my personal and private details so that you’re better equipped to cut the hairs on my head!”….but more sincere than you’ve probably just read it.

After all, I didn’t want to appear defensive, despite this being a weird fucking practice for a haircut

She took the completed slip from me, still smiling, and started entering my details on her computer.

I took a seat and watched her type far more than the information I’d entered on the slip. About 15 seconds went by and she said “OK, ready?”.

What was the point in suggesting I take a seat?

Anyway, I followed smiling Susan (or whatever her name was) to her chair and took a seat.

She smiled at me (or at least I think it was a new smile, it’s possible it was the same smile she’d been wearing since I arrived) and asked me how i’d like my hair. I couldn’t help but grin because the next time they’ll probably ask for my telephone number so they can enter it into a computer and then look up the information I’d imparted to her in the last 5 seconds.

Grade two back and sides, and a bit shorter and choppier on top.

No technology, no slips of paper. Just common sense.

She then put a strip of white tissue paper around my neck before fastening the usual black cape over it.

In fact, I looked like this.

There was suddenly an elephant in the room.

Me – “I look like a priest”

Her – “What?”

Me – “I said, I look like a priest”

She stopped, looked at me in the mirror and then laughed.

Her – “Ha ha ha, yes I suppose you do!”

Seriously, you’ve NEVER made that connection? Has no-one EVER made that connection before?

I’m not religious man (let alone a priest), but I was praying her hair cutting skills were better than, well, everything else about her so far.

And then we were off.

What followed was 15 minutes of company encouraged smalltalk, including (but not limited to): “How’s your day going today?”, :How long have you been in the US?” (at least she didn’t think I was fucking Australian), “So what do you do?” and my personal favourite “I would love to visit England but I haven’t had the chance yet”.

No shit? Really? Wow.

Also, I’ve noticed that over here the stylists seem scared to touch your head, either with their hands or the clippers. Is it just me? Do I have a greasy or gross head? When I’ve had my hair cut in the past the stylist would actually press the clippers against my head, like you’re supposed to. Here I barely felt them.

My ‘grade two back and sides’ is more like a range of grades from two to four.

Are they worried I’ll sue for physical abuse? Will I have to stand up in court and show a jury ‘where on the teddy bear’ the stylist touched me?

Probably.

(rolls eyes)

Anyway, after we were finally done and she’d cut my hair from a distance of eight feet, my substandard haircut and I stood up, paid (with tip….which I still don’t really know the etiquette for) and left.

On the drive home I couldn’t help but wonder, what would happen if I wanted to change up my hair style in the future? Would I be allowed to? If I didn’t say anything, would they just go ahead and cut it like last time?

Also, do they store every different style I have in their computer forever?

Surely none of this is as efficient or accurate as asking the customer when they’re IN THE FUCKING CHAIR?

I can’t help but worry that my profile might get mixed up with a 65 year old lady with a blue rinse and a double crown; that’ll make for an interesting look!

So there you have it. The haircut she’s given me is now what I can now expect at ‘one of the many other Great Clips in the city’ from now on.

After all, it’s on my profile now.

Yay.

[1] Slang for head. Not to be mistaken with the words ‘nosh off'[2] or ‘blozza'[3]

[2] Slang for blow job

[3] See [2]

High on caffeine and as slow as hell

Posted on Oct 28, 2015 by headinablender

I want to take a moment to look at the word ‘Entitled’.

It’s a common word of which I’m sure you’re familiar. If you’re not, here’s a dictionary definition:

verb (used with object), entitled, entitling.
– to give (a person or thing) a title, right, or claim to something; furnish with grounds for laying claim.

Well, in America, this ‘right’ or ‘claim’ seems to extend to all those walking Bags Of Pus Filled Shit we called pedestrians (or BOPFS for short).

Now, I’m being very specific here; I’m not referring to people in general – of which I have varying levels of tolerance – but I am instead talking about people when they’re in the role of ‘inconsiderate prick’.

As a human being (barely) I have been a pedestrian many times in my life, and there are certain unwritten rules of pedestrianism (is that a word?) that should be adhered to. These aren’t complicated rules taught in schools or training courses, they’re just common sense rules laced with decency, common sense and manners.

It’s also inevitable that these rules vary slightly in the US than they do in the UK, but surely not enough to send this calm(ish) Brit into a seething rage on a daily basis?

Oh yes, they do.

You see, there’s something that BOPFS do here that really pisses me off. It’s something so fucking infuriating it makes me want to smash the bonnet [hood] of my car into their soft fleshy bodies at high speeds; sending their stupid twatty faces (and Starbucks) up in the air whilst I let out a maniacal laugh that sounds like a donkey with its cock stuck in a milking machine.

What is this thing?

Entitlement.

In America, a BOPFS will just walk out in front of you without looking. Now, I can forgive a momentary lapse of concentration when crossing in front of a car (maybe you’re reading some awesome blog on your phone), but this happens everywhere, all the time.

In America, like the rest of the world, pedestrians always have the right of way, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a festering dick about it.

In the UK if someone is crossing the street at a non-allocated crossing[1], they will do it quickly so as to not disrupt the flow of traffic. In a car park [parking lot] they will move even quicker, often smiling and raising a hand to say ‘thank-you’.

Courteous.

Well mannered.

Awesome.

In America you’re lucky if the person acknowledges you at all. They simple walk – no, I’m not going to use the word ‘walk; that implies speed – they AMBLE out in front of you.

They KNOW you’re there but still they walk out like they own the fucking road and often proceed to slow down.

What makes it worse is that some of them walk at an angle so they’re walking in the same direction as you like a Funeral Conductor walking in front of my car.

My car isn’t a Hearse.

Although soon it might be.

Plus, my car is white, with the potential for a lot of sudden red.

And brown.

Don’t forget the Starbucks.

I can’t believe people here have the nerve to abuse their ‘right of way’ entitlement to this extent. It makes me want to abuse my ‘go to jail for murder’ entitlement.

Fuckers.

These people shouldn’t mess with large and dangerous killing machines, especially when they’re behind the wheel of a car.

I should drive around them and then stop in their path, and then when they attempt to walk around me I should keep blocking them.

My father in law said a woman once stopped in front of his car and proceeded to adjust her toddler’s clothing while he just sat there, unable to proceed. Apparently she couldn’t walk the last few feet and do it to one side.

All this in a nation that allows guns.

And this got me thinking about Red Bull.

(“Eh?” says the reader).

There seems to be an epidemic of energy drinks in the USA. People are seriously hooked on them. The standard can of Red Bull is basically sugar and caffeine. Add to this that a lot of people drink these back to back throughout the day. That’s a lot of caffeine.

By rights, people should be walking around like an old black and white silent movie!

So taking this into consideration, why are they all walking so fucking slow in front of my car?

I hear Red Bull gives you wings.

So will I.

[1] ‘jay walking’ isn’t a thing in the UK. If you want to get to the other side of the road, you just cross…the…road. You don’t have to walk 3 miles to an allocated crossing so you can cross the road and walk the 3 miles back to the place where you wanted to be.