Please Don’t Ask Me For Directions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because you’re not going to end up where you wanted to go.  Here’s a sample of me giving someone directions:

Me: You know that gas station that’s not a gas station but it’s a gas station?

Confused Person: Huh?

Me: If you take a left at the street where Ivar’s burned down in ’83, you’ve gone too far.

Confused Person: So if I want to get on the freeway at 41st I have to drive by the Ivar’s that burned down in ’83?

Me: Oh, that’s right.  It was an Ivar’s and it closed down when an old lady choked to death on a finger in her Tilapia sandwich.  It became some kind of Chinese buffet after that.

Confused Person: So…..

Me: Hang a left at the vitamin store, go past the cemetery that overlooks the Frontier building.  You’ll see the free way from there.

Confused Person: You’ve been really…helpful.

Me: If you pass the halfway house where that crack head killed his ex-girlfriend you’ve missed the free way.

 

And dear sweet baby Jesus, don’t ever give me directions to an actual address with actual numbers:

Me: Is it near a McDonald’s?

Person Trying to Be Helpful: Well, like I said, you want to head East on 112th for about a quarter mile-

Me: So it’s by Taco Bell?

This is the point where the person giving me directions is clenching his fists and swaying on his feet like he’s about to dart forward and strangle me.

PTTBH: In a quarter of a mile you’re going to want to hang a left and then in three blocks take a right.

Me: So it’s around that car wash where my cousin’s dog let all the windows down during a car wash?

PTTBH: There’s no car wash on that street.

Me: There was in 1996.

PTTBH: Like I said, you take a right and it should be right there.

Me: I take a right where that skunk-haired homeless girl sits on an old cooler and holds a cardboard sign that says “YOUNG AND HUNGRY.  TRYING TO RAISE $$$ TO GET TO PORTLAND.”  I’ve passed her at least five times in the last month.  I don’t think she’s really trying to get to Portland.

Then there’s this long and deep pause where I can hear a cricket fart should a cricket want to fart at that exact moment.

PTTBH: It’s next to the A&W that is also a Pizza Hut.

Me: Why didn’t you fucking say that in the first place?  Although, why anyone would want a hot dog that probably smells like a pepperoni pizza is beyond me.

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About jkhughes2

I'm fat and I hate my job. Well kinda. Kinda on both of those. I love to read and work in a library where they don't let me read. But as long as I get to be around books I'm happy. I once wanted to be a writer and then realized that I'm too lazy to write a book but not too lazy to write a blog. And blogging is like keeping a journal except my posts are the equivalent of verbal diarrhea. And oh yeah. I have really low self-esteem. I have a dog named Max but I call him Maxhole. He's the first dog I've ever had. I find his daily life way more interesting than mine or most people I know. That's about it. I hate politics and computer books. I secretly wish I was Doctor Who but can't remember if that's "was" or "were." Now that's it.
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2 Responses to Please Don’t Ask Me For Directions

  1. Morguie says:

    You are too effing much, girl…too effing much! LMAO! 😛

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