- Oct 10, 2006
- 1,710
- Boat Info
- 2006 44 DA
QSC 8.3s
- Engines
- Cummins QSC 8.3s 500HO
Hemorrhoids - Need I say more?
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Hemorrhoids - Need I say more?
Why do females want to be referred to as "guys" ?
Why do females want to be referred to as "dudes" ?
Call me picky but this is carrying equality too far. It can somtimes be difficult enough to tell a "guy" from a "gal" for various reasons so you "Dudettes" need to use your own gender specific tags to help cut down on this confusion.
I hate littering. No excuse for it.My biggest non-boating pet peeve is when I am following another vehicle and see the inconsiderate, pea-brained pigs ahead of me throw their garbage out onto the road. They should be lined up in the ditch and put out of their misery.
Who drives 90 miles for lunch?This bubbled up to number 1; but then, redemption and I slept well -
Automobile drivers that rocket ten miles per hour over the speed limit when oncoming traffic is clear then slow to ten mile per hour under the speed limit when oncoming traffic is heavy.
We were driving home from lunch last Sunday, a 45 mile drive; the highway (Florida 46) is two lanes posted 60 miles per hour. We were cruising a tick over 60 and came upon a car in front doing the speed limit; OK, reduced our speed and all is good, safe distance, enjoying the ride. The oncoming traffic becomes heavy and the car in front slows to 50; we slow to 50. The oncoming traffic clears and the car in front speeds up to 65 so we resume to 60. The cycle repeats, it repeats four or five times. Yes it is a Prius with various stickers on the back misbehaving and I'm getting a bit unnerved. Another traffic break opens and we pull out to pass; "that little prick is accelerating" I mutter out-loud. I pull along side, look over, and there it was, a mid-fifties anorexic balding dude with a pony tail alone wearing a face mask. Preconception confirmed; an entitled POS who believes his job is to make everyone miserable. By now we are both traveling about 75 miles per hour. But, I'm in the Hellcat Redeye and I'm pissed, pissed on a Sunday after a great lunch; the throttle goes to the floor, the transmission downshifts from 8th gear to 3rd and all 800 ponies begin to shred the pavement; the supercharger is screaming and sucking parts off the Prius. We are burning ten dinosaurs per second passing at god only knows what speed; and it was good, and I'm laughing. My caretaker looks over to me from the passenger seat and opines "honey, what took you so long". Redemption.
A nice Sunday drive to a great Mexican Restaurant. Sounds like you need to venture out a bit and smell the roses.Who drives 90 miles for lunch?
How about the jerk who sits in front of you at the stop sign waiting to make a right turn. A car is coming from half mile away so he waits. The car goes past and the jerkoff waits until it's about a hundred yards down the road before he's brave enough to pull out.