ADT. A nonstop gaggle of geeks.

They were supposed to show up on Saturday at 11am for an alarm system installation. Then the sales office changed it to 12pm at the last minute. So why is my doorbell ringing at 9:52?

It’s Alarm Clown claiming that the office told him installation was to take place at 10am. Should I turn this guy away and wait another 3 weeks for the install, or bite the bullet and get it over with? I opt for the latter.

Now I’m decked out like the creature from the black lagoon, groggily showing Alarm Clown where everything should be installed. We descend into the basement where he explains that he needs to run a phone line from my utility room to the box outside. So I ask if he wants me to move my belongings out of the way first. His response: “Well, er…you can. I mean, if I break anything I’m not gonna be held responsible.”

My ass.

By the time my grogged-up brain latches on to the fact that Alarm Clown is a card-carrying clod, he’s already drilling a hole in my wall. And by drilling, I mean the sound your tooth makes when the dentist hits a bad spot. This choad’s first love OBVIOUSLY wasn’t carpentry. But after two hours of thuds and groans, Alarm Clown proudly proclaims his work is done.

My ass.

This dweebhole is trying to leave without finishing the job. I may LOOK like a swamp creature but dude, come on…

Me: “Wait, what about my lamp module?”
Alarm Clown: “You were supposed to get a lamp module??”
Me: “Um, YEAH.”
Alarm Clown: “Oh. Well, let me go and get one of those out of the truck. I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later he’s almost audi-5 AGAIN.

Me: “Wait, what about my smoke detector?”
Alarm Clown: “Who told you that you were supposed to get one of those??”
Me: “The salesman??”
Alarm Clown: “Can I see your contract again?
Me: “It’s right here.”
Alarm Clown: “You see, this is why I hate the salesmen - I can’t read this! The guy needs to go back to school and learn how to write.”

The lameness is overwhelming.

Suffice it to say that the alarm is installed but I’ve got two big gouges in my wall to show for it. And had I not waylaid this fool on his way out, I would have been stuck with half a functioning security system. Will this parade of circus performers ever cease?!

At least half a dozen times in the past five days, the following conversation has taken place…

Them: “Hey, what’re you gonna be for Halloween?”
Me: “Um, nothing?”
Them: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dude, when did Halloween become so frickin serious?

I’ll admit, I loved it when I was a kid. But nowadays it’s looked at as some kind of government mandated celebration. I know grown adults who lose their everlovin MINDS whenever the last week of October rolls around. But I just don’t see any reason to get my knickers all knotted over a plastic ass jack o’lantern and a pound of bite size Raisinets.

So why are fools throwing up the sign of the cross when I tell them I’m not getting dressed up? Is this the new Christmas? Are any halls getting decked? Any chestnuts roasting on an open fire? No.

So unless somebody decides to hand me $100 to blow on some Raggedy Ann costume? Come Halloween, I’m going as nothing.

Bah, humbug.

“Vanity” license plates - no longer for the lame.

I spotted this little gem on the ass end of a Dodge Ram:

UBN RAMD

Wait, a dude in a pickup wins the award for vehicular wit?? Never thought I’d see the day.

For those who haven’t visited or resided in the DC area within the last 6 months or so…

This post won’t make any sense.

But for those who have kumbaya, you must have spotted that shameless, low-budget, homemade Eastern Motors commercial, right? You haven’t??

Like to hear it, here it go:

At Eastern Motors…Motors,
Your job’s your credit…credit.
At Eastern Motors…Motors,
Your job’s your credit…credit.

Let Eastern Motors,
Put you in a car today.
Let Eastern Motors,
Finance it all the way.

Unfortunately, these lyrics don’t do the ad justice unless you hear the beat that runs behind them. But suffice it to say that once you get this little ditty stuck in your head? IT WILL NOT DIE.

Which is exactly why I was singing the godforsaken song to myself this morning while I was getting dressed. My cat kept shooting me cockeyed looks in the hopes that I would shove a sock in it. But instead, I ended up penning a new version in HER honor:

At Eastern Motors…Motors,
Your cat’s your credit…credit.
At Eastern Motors…Motors,
Your cat’s your credit…credit.

Let Eastern Motors,
Put you with a cat today.
Let Eastern Motors,
Furball it all the way.

She now hates me.

Juveniles.

When did they start issuing drivers licenses to five year olds?