This blog does not allow posts that aren't complaining in nature. In lieu of that I will recap my day yesterday only because I get to bitch about a few things.
Beerfuelsamerica.com(the psuedoname for my employer) decided to sent me to one of New York's finest towns. Utica. You ask what there is to do in Utica? I have no idea. But any town that has a lack of interesting/fun things to do requires that much more beer be distributed.
My day starts off at BTV with a rental car. After hearing/seeing all the planes(I don't fly American) I really wished I was hopping on one of those instead of my brand new Malibu. By the way, every time they update a car model it seems to get smaller. Does it look like I'm getting any smaller? Likely not!
Fast forward to Vergennes and I'm looking at a small bit of road construction in my lane. There's a postal vehicle(we don't have delegated trucks in rural VT, only personal owned postal vehicles) in my lane as well so I stop behind it in order to let the single lane of oncoming traffic pass. The last car is on the yellow line. Now it's over the yellow line. Every foot closer to me is another foot over the yellow line. It's a white plate which believe it or not I didn't have time to identify because I actually thought SHE was going to hit me. My best guess has three options but none of them answer the real question as to why the fuck SHE is in my lane. Massachusetts, Quebec, or California? She manages to pass by without hitting me although I do not know how. Our mirrors must have touched. The flagger motions me to advance, but as soon as she goes by me I look in my rear view mirror only to see HER in my lane DRIVING IN THE WRONG DIRECTION. I stop and watch until she dips down the hill leaving me guessing as to what happens next. Holy shit! Is SHE from Britain? Australia? WTF! Head on collision anyone?
Ready for another good one. I roll up over a hill a little while later only to see two Mourning Doves in the road. No time to stop, no room to swerve. Smack, plunk, feathers flying everywhere. This can't be a good sign. Mourning Doves? Are you serious?
Now I'm on New York State Thruway #90. This road is patrolled by cruisers, jacked up SUVs, Corvette's, helicopters, and small planes. Small planes? You have to be joking. Every time I have driven on this road I've driven 80 all the way to Buffalo without a hitch. This time I decide to step it up a notch because I'm late. 90, 100, 100, 115...the engine won't shut off. Too bad the same can't be said for Wild Man's new GMC. That little bitch shuts off at 95. So I slow down to 90, see a cop in the distance and hit the brakes to mimic my 75 MPH right lane cruiser. His red lights are on before I even get by him. Fuck, that's gonna be 2 NY state tickets in 2 weeks. He pulls me over and tells me I was going 87 and it was a little too fast. He comes back literally 2 minutes later with a ticket for me. No questions, just a simple transaction. Business in business in New York.
This brings us to my final destination at a distributor in Utica. I need wireless and I need it now. I get a connection but it won't get me outside. This place has a half-way-decent T1 but they are too dumb/afraid to let outsiders use it. They bought a Time Warner cable connection and a Linksys router. It won't work. I'm pissed. We finally get it to work. Now I need a projector/big screen. I can connect and it sees my signal but will not display anything. We get Mr. IT on the phone and he has no answers. Ha. I guess it's 15 Type A salesman staring at my 15" laptop screen. This ought to be good. And yes, there's the usual fucknut who looks the same, talks the same, and has the same shitty jokes that make you talk really loud in order to attempt to belittle him enough to shut him up. There isn't a distributor without one.
The day is done and it is still light out. This hasn't happened in a long time. I go across the street from my Hampton Inn to a place called Delmonico's Steak House. I go in uneasy for some reason. I don't like the initial appeal. All changes quickly though. Every chick working there is wearing a black mini skirt...and I mean mini! And no, they aren't your usual Utica chicks. This, in all honesty, is the best looking group of girls I have yet to see in my travels across the country. Brunettes dominate only to my appeal. Utica is good for something after all. They have Sam Adams on tap and big mugs too. I order T-Loin medallions on Alfredo. This is good stuff. The Celts are done and so am I so I head across the street to the Hess station. Yuengling six packs for 5.99 and Joker 1 1/2's to boot. Life is good when you don't have to go through the security puffers at the airport. I like my 2008 Malibu after all.
Beerfuelsamerica.com(the psuedoname for my employer) decided to sent me to one of New York's finest towns. Utica. You ask what there is to do in Utica? I have no idea. But any town that has a lack of interesting/fun things to do requires that much more beer be distributed.
My day starts off at BTV with a rental car. After hearing/seeing all the planes(I don't fly American) I really wished I was hopping on one of those instead of my brand new Malibu. By the way, every time they update a car model it seems to get smaller. Does it look like I'm getting any smaller? Likely not!
Fast forward to Vergennes and I'm looking at a small bit of road construction in my lane. There's a postal vehicle(we don't have delegated trucks in rural VT, only personal owned postal vehicles) in my lane as well so I stop behind it in order to let the single lane of oncoming traffic pass. The last car is on the yellow line. Now it's over the yellow line. Every foot closer to me is another foot over the yellow line. It's a white plate which believe it or not I didn't have time to identify because I actually thought SHE was going to hit me. My best guess has three options but none of them answer the real question as to why the fuck SHE is in my lane. Massachusetts, Quebec, or California? She manages to pass by without hitting me although I do not know how. Our mirrors must have touched. The flagger motions me to advance, but as soon as she goes by me I look in my rear view mirror only to see HER in my lane DRIVING IN THE WRONG DIRECTION. I stop and watch until she dips down the hill leaving me guessing as to what happens next. Holy shit! Is SHE from Britain? Australia? WTF! Head on collision anyone?
Ready for another good one. I roll up over a hill a little while later only to see two Mourning Doves in the road. No time to stop, no room to swerve. Smack, plunk, feathers flying everywhere. This can't be a good sign. Mourning Doves? Are you serious?
Now I'm on New York State Thruway #90. This road is patrolled by cruisers, jacked up SUVs, Corvette's, helicopters, and small planes. Small planes? You have to be joking. Every time I have driven on this road I've driven 80 all the way to Buffalo without a hitch. This time I decide to step it up a notch because I'm late. 90, 100, 100, 115...the engine won't shut off. Too bad the same can't be said for Wild Man's new GMC. That little bitch shuts off at 95. So I slow down to 90, see a cop in the distance and hit the brakes to mimic my 75 MPH right lane cruiser. His red lights are on before I even get by him. Fuck, that's gonna be 2 NY state tickets in 2 weeks. He pulls me over and tells me I was going 87 and it was a little too fast. He comes back literally 2 minutes later with a ticket for me. No questions, just a simple transaction. Business in business in New York.
This brings us to my final destination at a distributor in Utica. I need wireless and I need it now. I get a connection but it won't get me outside. This place has a half-way-decent T1 but they are too dumb/afraid to let outsiders use it. They bought a Time Warner cable connection and a Linksys router. It won't work. I'm pissed. We finally get it to work. Now I need a projector/big screen. I can connect and it sees my signal but will not display anything. We get Mr. IT on the phone and he has no answers. Ha. I guess it's 15 Type A salesman staring at my 15" laptop screen. This ought to be good. And yes, there's the usual fucknut who looks the same, talks the same, and has the same shitty jokes that make you talk really loud in order to attempt to belittle him enough to shut him up. There isn't a distributor without one.
The day is done and it is still light out. This hasn't happened in a long time. I go across the street from my Hampton Inn to a place called Delmonico's Steak House. I go in uneasy for some reason. I don't like the initial appeal. All changes quickly though. Every chick working there is wearing a black mini skirt...and I mean mini! And no, they aren't your usual Utica chicks. This, in all honesty, is the best looking group of girls I have yet to see in my travels across the country. Brunettes dominate only to my appeal. Utica is good for something after all. They have Sam Adams on tap and big mugs too. I order T-Loin medallions on Alfredo. This is good stuff. The Celts are done and so am I so I head across the street to the Hess station. Yuengling six packs for 5.99 and Joker 1 1/2's to boot. Life is good when you don't have to go through the security puffers at the airport. I like my 2008 Malibu after all.
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