Ran out of talent
Posted on April 6, 2008, by wafwot, under General.
I went to Bellevue yesterday (I’ll tell you about that in a minute) and stopped by Krispy Kreme on the way home. Later that day, while feeling the effects from a little help from my friend, Tina and I found this particular donut outrageously comical. The custard filling has to get in the donut somehow, and some of it inevitably drips from the “injector” on withdraw. That leads to jokes about her gay brother, and felching, and other such imagery that’s always so damn funny at moments like that. When a donut is this funny looking, you just have to take a picture of it and turn it into an animated GIF, flashing between the donut and a more vulgar anal leakage image for only a few milliseconds. Who would be the first to notice the subliminal message? But when I saw the results of googling “cum oozing ass hole,” I just couldn’t do it. Not that I find stretched quivering whale eyes dripping with man goo terribly disgusting, NOR… Nor do I find them terribly enjoyable, either! No. I just didn’t want to spend 20 minutes looking at one, forever associating Krispy Kremes with drippy balloon knots of doom for a stupid inebriated giggle about a donut. Beside, I think the picture is funny by itself.
Bellevue, yes. When I bought my new truck., the dealer didn’t have two ignition keys, the 5-digit code to the keyless entry pad on the driver’s door, the remote key fobs, or an owners’ manual. In fact, all they seemed to have was the truck itself and nothing that went with it. Anyway, after emailing the dealer they said they couldn’t find any additional items for my truck. To hell with them. They’re a nice bunch of car salesmen, for what that’s worth, but I can find the shit I need/want for my truck on the Internets. For about $65 total, I bought a manual from helminc.com, two PATS keys from some entrepreneurial locksmith on eBay, a 34-page 2005 F-150 dealer brochure from some entrepreneurial brochure collector on eBay, and five remote key fobs from another entrepreneurial alarm installer on eBay. If you’re wondering, five fobs were cheaper than two — I just have three extras now. The 5-digit code was found on the VSM behind the rear seat, mounted on the back wall of the cab. I found that small tidbit on the forums at F150online.com. It was a 90 minute project to recover that code.
The only thing I still needed the dealer for was my license plates and programming the PATS keys. PATS keys are special keys that have a transponder chip molded into the head of the key. If the truck doesn’t recognize the key, it disables the fuel pump preventing the vehicle from starting. Normally, I would have been able to program my own keys IF I had two working keys. But, since my truck must have been repossessed by the bank, or traded in by a crack whore, I only had the one key and lacked the ability to program my own keys. This is where the dealer comes in.
I drove my truck to Seattle last Thursday, and during lunch drove to the dealer in Bellevue. I picked up my license plates, and asked if they could program the keys so I could save a trip. Some old grizzled salesman overheard my conversation with the kid that sold me the truck. He told us it takes about 45 minutes to download the data in order to program keys. Forty five minutes? Damn! I asked about their Internet connection speed, joking that I could download the entire ECU with a 28.8 kbps modem faster than that. They either didn’t like my humor, or didn’t understand it. Either way, it meant I still had to make the nearly hundred mile drive to Bellevue on Saturday. Excellent.
So, on Saturday, I left the house around 10:30am. I had several errands around town to complete before I could head south, including going to the locksmith to get my PATS keys cut, going to the bank to make my first payment on this truck, and making a deposit at another bank. Finally heading south, I stopped to get the truck washed at the Blue Cow and a tank of gas at the Indian Chevron station — casino Indians, not Slurpee Indians.
Oh my god, something I learned about this truck a few days after I bought it… The first time I filled it up, I had $100 on me. I knew gas was $3.299 a gallon and figured the tank was the standard 27 gallon variety available in 2005. A bit of quick math in my head said no more than $80 in gas (since I was just under a quarter tank) and I could use the change to get the truck washed. Well, I watched as the pump went past $80… then past $90… and I had to stop at $100! What the fuck? How does 30.3 gallons of gas fit into a 27 gallon tank? Remember that 34-page brochure I bought on eBay? It told me there was an optional gas tank available. My truck has that optional 37.5 gallon tank. Sonofabitch! Fill-ups cost me over $120 at today’s gas prices. Back in the days B.A. (Before Asthma), $120 was enough to keep me high at nights for six weeks. Now it only takes me approximately 575 miles. Oh, how being a responsible adult sucks the balls of so many goats.
Anyway, back to my trip to Bellevue. I got the to dealer around 2:00pm. They had me pull into the service bay, and told me it would take 90 minutes. What?! I thought it was 45 minutes! So much that old salesman knows. Fucker. I had a seat in the “lounge.” It consisted of a TV with the channel selector glued to CNN, a coffee maker, a leather couch with a mother and her kid seated on it, a leather chair, and leather love seat. The chair and love seat had been turned into some foreigner’s mobile office. He had his laptop and papers all over the love seat as he was sitting in the chair, talking to someone on a cell phone in some foreign terrorist language. My first thought: “Someone who thinks he’s this important drives a Ford?”
My bladder said, “hey, you haven’t pissed since 9am, empty me!” Being here for hours on end when I bought the truck in February, I knew the toilets were just through a doorway in the lounge. When I returned, the Sultan of Couchoffice was gone, and Mom was going through the motions of gathering her shit. I didn’t get the impression they were together, but maybe. I took a seat in the Sultan’s throne, and read the news via my phone.
Just then, some older gentleman came in from the service bay and took a seat on the couch. He was on the phone, talking to his wife, I’m guessing. He told her they were able to fix the “flasher lights.” It appears he had his vehicle in for repair because his hazard blinkers were broken. Whenever he pressed the hazard button in, the lights came on, but didn’t stay on. Ford “fixed” his problem by showing the old codger that you pull UP on the button to engage the hazard lights. Apparently, this poor bastard didn’t get a manual with his vehicle either. I couldn’t help but laugh! How much did that cost him? When the old man looked at me, I turned my phone to him and pretended that a bus load of kids tipping over on I-94 in Minnesota was something to laugh at. What does he know? He can’t even operate hazard lights! Ha ha!
By 2:50pm, they were done programming my keys and kicked me free. It actually did take them 45 minutes to program those keys. I guess that old salesman did know what he was talking about. Will wonders ever cease? I was northbound on I-405 by 3, and home with dinner in hand before 5. In all, programmed PATS keys was so anti-climatic, and hardly worth all the blog space I’m giving it here.
And if you’re wondering about the title of this update, it a reference to NASCAR. Apparently, when these hillbillies crash their cars into walls or other drivers, and some retired hillbilly racer in a cowboy hat shoves a microphone in their face to find out what happened, their response is, “I ran out of talent.” So, when you wonder why ol’ Jim hasn’t updated his blog in 6 weeks, that’ll be my answer. “I ran out of talent.” Ya’ll come back now, ya hear?
4 Replies to "Ran out of talent"
"Can I get your number?" on April 25, 2008
OK, so yer blog design is new and all nifty-When do we get a new post?? Huh?? 
…and that doughnut pic is funny…
Ditech on April 28, 2008
WOW, I CAN HEAR LDRIVER ALL THE WAY IN BURLINGTON!!!!!!!!!!!
Please talk shit about doughnuts
Please talk shit about Bob Saget (pre-post-Full House)
And Jesus Murphy it took you 120$ to fill ur tank? My new Impalla (YES IT IS MINE AND IT ISN”T A VW!) takes about 60-65$.
while chicks boobs may sag, least our nuts won't sit in shitty water! on May 2, 2008
60-65$ in gas or is that wheatgrass alternative fuel?? LOL
I'm your typical middle-aged fat-ass struggling from paycheck to paycheck. It's the American fucking dream, don't ya know. I drive a 2005 Ford F-150 pickup truck. I work an 8-to-5 job at an Internet service provider in Seattle as Systems Administrator slash Hostmaster. However, I commute five hours a day so it's really a 5-to-8 job. Sonofafuck, why anyone wants to read about my life is a mystery greater than... the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa.
LDriver on April 14, 2008
DO NOT TALK SHIT ABOUT THE DOUGHNUTS, or TOTAL!!!! BOB SAGET!!!
[wafwot's note: here's the reference to this comment]