TOP 10 SIGNS YOUR FAMILY IS STRESSED

10. Conversations often begin with "Put the gun down, and then we can talk".

9. The school principal has your number on speed-dial.

8. The cat is on Valium.

7. People have trouble understanding your kids, because they learned to speak through clenched teeth.

6. You are trying to get your four-year-old to switch to decaffeinated.

5. The number of jobs held down by family members exceeds the number of people in the family.

4. No one has time to wait for microwave TV dinners.

3. "Family meetings" are often mediated by law enforcement officials.

2. You have to check your kid's day-timer to see if he can take out the trash.

1. Maxwell House gives you industrial rates.

Star Wars vs Star Trek - Special Edition

Dear Mr. FUV driver

Dear Mr. FUV driver:

Please accept my apologies for not letting you merge into my lane this morning after you tried to get around a line of cars by using the blocked off construction lane. I know your gigantic Suburban is better than my little girly car and can handle that bumpy, stripped road, and that you could have taken off the front end of my Civic for not letting you in, but see, here�s my theory: you already take up too much.

-You take up too much of the road. I know, the lanes should be wider to accommodate you, but they aren�t yet. You take up the entire lane from left to right, and if that isn�t enough, you usually don�t pay attention to your driving, so you take up even more by drifting over at me. Or, you are tailgating me at 80 MPH on the highway to make you move out of your way. So you pretty much already get the majority of the road.

-You take up too much parking space. Your long ass car hangs out into the driving lane. You take forever to park because you can�t maneuver your battleship into the space; if you are conscientious enough to care that you are parked between the lines, or close to the curb, which isn�t the norm. So, you usually take up more than your share of parking spaces by parking like shit. But hey, you are special, and you�ll �only be a minute�. I should be more patient.

-You take up too much of my line of vision. I can�t see around you to see if I can make a left turn; I can�t see around you to see if I should pull into traffic. I can�t see the road ahead of me for your big ass. I�m usually stuck reading the stupid stickers you put on that big ass to announce your alliances. I know I should care about New Trier, or the fact that you are proud of your University of Dayton alumni status, but I really don�t.

-You take up too much gas. I know it�s your right if you can afford to pay for it, but I can�t help feeling sorry for those mothers who are paying for your gas addiction with their sons. I�ll try harder to get over it.

-You take up too much air. I know your FUV is officially categorized by the government as a truck so you don�t have to adhere to regular emissions standards, but it�s my ozone too. And I�d like a few days of summer to be less than 100 degrees, I still like snow in the winter, but hey, I�m selfish that way.

-You take up too much velocity. When you hit me doing your 50 mph, there is no doubt I will die because your two tons of metal will not be slowed significantly by my compact car. I guess I should be grateful that I will go quickly, if not painlessly.

-You take up too many cell phone minutes. Is there some secret FUV club that I am not aware of? Because you are all, always, on your cell phones.

So, Mr. or Ms. FUV driver, if you see me in my little Civic, know that I�m sorry that I don�t let you cut into traffic after driving around those waiting in line. I�m sorry I don�t give you the option at a 4 way stop. I�m sorry if I don�t move out of your way immediately on the highway when you tailgate. I�m sorry I�m not more courteous, because, to me, just the fact that you are driving that thing without a legitimate reason makes you a selfish prick.

New cab driver

A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the footpath, and stopped centimeters from a shop window.

For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said, "Look mate, don't ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!" The passenger apologized and said, "I didn't realize that a little tap would scare you so much. "The driver replied, "Sorry, it's not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver. I've been driving a funeral van for the last 25 years."

Another loser in Tucson

KELVIN J TOBY
DOB 11/1972
1620 N. Wilmot Rd. #E 261
Tucson, AZ. 85712
(520) 301-0057

C06411748 1 LIQ IN VEH PASSENGER POSSESS
C06768609 1 DUI LIQUOR/DRUGS/VAPORS 1ST
C06768609 2 DUI LIQUOR BAC .08 OR MORE 1ST
C06768609 3 DUI EXTREME BAC .15 OR MORE 1ST
C06795253 1 NO CURRENT REGISTRATION
C11502895 1 LOCAL CHARGE
C11502895 2 LOCAL CHARGE
C11502895 3 LAP AND SHOULDER BELTS REQUIRED
C11502895 4 NO LEGIBLE DRIVER LICENSE IN POSSESSION

After keeping me waiting for 5 mins, comes down with two girls and a 5 year old boy. Wants to go to circle k and come back. On the ride back his son is counting off the meter. Classy Kelvin tells his son, "Yeah its high cuz he didn't turn the meter off at the store. Its because he's a jew."
I drove off without him paying. What a winner.

DC Cab Tribute

Rants from a UPS driver

Before i started this job I thought I was a pretty normal person and your avg. person in DC had common sense. Damn if I wasn't wrong on that one. Now mind you the avg home price where i deliver is $750,000+. Here are a few tips to get your shit to you, not get ran the hell over, and not get cursed out by a driver wearing a shit brown uniform.

* Put fucking numbers on your house. How hard is that? I know your college educated. How fucking hard is it to post numbers. Hire someone hell hire me to put em up. And I understand your shit may be getting remodeled. Grab one of those big ass pieces of ply-wood spray some numbers on it and stick it in the front yard.

* Illuminate the fucking lights. Go stand in the middle of the street at night and see if you can see your house numbers. If you cant see them or have to search to find them how in the fuck do you think I can see them?????

* If you see my big ass truck driving down a narrow two way street with cars parked on both sides I PROMISE you you cannot get buy. Not even in a mini cooper on two wheels.

* If you come out and see that your side view mirror is ripped off dont automatically assume it was me. It was probaly the asshole trying to squeeze by me.

* Honking your horn is not going to move my truck. I assure you I already know I'm blocking your path and you blowing your horn constantly is only going to piss me off which in turn is only going to make me take longer to piss you off.

* If you ordered huge shit from pottery barn, west elm, ikea, or overstock.com and I'm nice enough to bring it in your house b/c your weak, old, with child, have broken limb or just plain fucking lazy dont tip me a fucking dollar an think anything else is going to make it to your house on 1st attempt or in one piece.

* Dont bitch because I threw your landsend or j crew package to your door. Its only a fucking shirt calm your nerves.

* Dont tell me you damn life story unless your paying me to listen. I am on a time line. Shut up and just sign.

* Lock up your dog/cat/bad ass kid or whatever else is wild behind your door. If it comes at me I will fuck it up with whatever I can get my hands on to defend myself.

* And dont try to jump in my shit about a package that UPS lost somewhere in transition. I am only a driver I only deliver what they put on my truck. I have not been a driver my whole life and dont think this brown uniform will stop you from getting your ass kicked

* And always remember my truck is bigger than your vehicle. Its raggedy as hell and DOES NOT STOP ON A DIME and never will. Dont cut me off or ride your bike in my path or think you can beat me across the street. I promise you will end up the loser guaranteed

Little Johnny

A stranger was seated next to Little Johnny on the plane when the stranger turned to the Little Johnny and said, "Let's talk. I've heard that flights will go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger."

Little Johnny, who had just opened his book, closed it slowly, and said to the stranger, "What would you like to discuss?"

"Oh, I don't know," said the stranger. "How about nuclear power?"

"OK," said Little Johnny. "That could be an interesting topic. But let me ask you a question first. "A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat grass. The same stuff. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, and a horse produces clumps of dried grass. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Jeez," said the stranger. "I have no idea."

"Well, then," said Little Johnny, "How is it that you feel qualified to discuss nuclear power when you don't know shit?"

You talkin' to ME?!? - A cabbie's RANT

It�s inevitable. At some point in your life, you�re going to take a taxi somewhere. Maybe only once, to the airport, say, because the friend who was supposed to take you flaked out at the last minute. Perhaps you�ll take taxis frequently because the bus doesn�t run when or where you�d like. If you�ve been unfortunate enough to be caught driving under the influence, they�re no doubt a very important part of your life.

If you�re from a city like New York, you�re probably familiar with the ins and outs of �cabbing it.� However, after driving a cab for one of P-town�s largest cab companies for the last couple of years, I�ve found that Portland residents are not always savvy when it comes to the dos and don�ts of catching a cab. So, as a service to you, my beloved customers, I would like to share with you a little insight that will hopefully make each of our experiences a bit more enjoyable.

First, let�s discuss me, the driver. I�m a businessman (or woman). I�m out here trying to make a living. I�m not running a charity. Please don�t ask for freebies and cut rates. I�m not out here for you. I�m out here for me. Maybe I own my cab, maybe I don�t. It doesn�t matter. Either way, I�m my own boss, more or less. Oh sure, the company I work for would like me to follow certain rules, be nice to the customers, obey the traffic laws, etc. The point is they don�t pay me. I make my money by giving people rides. I pay for the car, the gas, maintenance, and such. I keep all the fares. That�s how it works. The meter is simply a tool to accurately measure the price of my service, per the posted rates. They are always the same and rarely ever change. Whining about the fare isn�t going to make the ride any cheaper. There�s no way for me to make the meter run faster or slower, although there are tricks that some dishonest cabbies will use to run up your fare. Beware of taxi drivers who deliberately try to catch red lights, who sit too long after the light turns green, or who find other ways to delay your trip, including taking the longest or most congested route.

Now let�s discuss you, the passenger. First of all, you need a taxi. So you pick up the phone and call your favorite cab company. This is a good time to turn on your porchlight (if it�s dark outside) and be ready to go. Yes, maybe you�ll have a 15-20 minute wait, but don�t be surprised if we show up in 5. If you�re not ready when we show up, we�re apt to start the meter and charge you for the wait time. Sometimes, however, it may take a lot longer than 15-20 minutes. Please be patient, especially if it�s rush hour. Remember, most of this city�s cabs start their shifts downtown between 4 and 6 am/pm. If you�re in Clackamas, Hillsboro, Vancouver or Tualatin, it�s fair to say that you�re going to have a little bit of a wait. Be patient. We will get to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, if you should happen to find alternative transportation, please call back and let us know. It isn�t the driver�s fault it took so long; please don�t take it out on me. It�s money right out of my pocket every time I chase after a �no-show.� Besides, part of the reason it often takes so long is that we�re chasing after other people who called us and then split.

Oh, and one other thing. DO NOT CALL MORE THAN ONE CAB COMPANY! There is an unwritten agreement with Portland taxi drivers that if more than one of us shows up, we all leave. Not only will you not get a cab, you�ll be blacklisted and will never get another cab again! And don�t think that just because you escaped in the first cab, the second guy�s out of luck. Bathroom breaks are few and some of us have been known to relieve ourselves on your front door. I�m not saying this will happen, only that it could. You have been warned!

If you�re downtown barhopping on the weekend with your friends, calling a cab might not be your best option. In this situation, it might be easier to go outside and hail the first empty cab you see. Do not call a cab and then hail one down. Do one or the other. If you decide to hail a cab, again, be patient. If I don�t stop for you, there�s a good reason. Usually, I already have a passenger and you couldn�t see them in the car (this happens all the time). I might be going after someone who called me on my cell phone. Don�t take it personal. Just keep waving. Be obvious. Eye contact and timidly raising a finger will not get you a cab. Flail your arms or, better yet, use a flashlight. Someone will stop for you soon. If you call a cab from your cell phone while you�re still in the bar, do yourself a favor and LET THE BARTENDER/DOORMAN KNOW! I am not going to wander around the club looking for you and neither are they. Unless you�re waiting outside, you�re probably going to lose your cab!

Once you�ve gotten a cab, let us know where you�re going. This would seem like an obvious thing but you�d be surprised how many times it�s like pulling teeth to get someone to tell you where they wish to go. �Over there� is not a destination! If you have a preferred route, by all means, let me know. Do not, however, start giving me directions by saying, �First, back out of the parking space�� unless you want to find out just how surly I can get. Don�t treat me like an idiot. Chances are, I know this town better than you do and if I�m not familiar with your neighborhood, believe me I�ll ask. Besides, I�m quite often the only sober one in the vehicle. So trust me, would ya?

When you hire a cab, you are hiring the driver. I perform a service, you see. That service is to get you from Point A to Point B, not to put up with your shit. Just because you�ve jumped into my cab does not mean that you own the vehicle. You may not do as you please! I might let you listen to your silly Top 40 radio station, I might not. Either way, the choice is mine. Get over it! My car is my office. It�s my work environment and I spend upwards of 12 hours a day in it. So if I say �No smoking,� that means NO SMOKING! If you cut a nasty fart, you may find yourself walking the rest of the way in the rain! Please, be respectful! Assholes are a dime a dozen and your rude, crude behavior will not be tolerated! If I happen to be a female driver, don�t think you have the right to be disgusting. It takes a special breed of woman to drive a cab and most of the female drivers in this town can, and will, kick your ass if you step out of line!

Once you�ve reached your destination, it�s time to pay your driver. Now is not the time to tell me that all you have is a $100 bill. Believe me, I will keep the meter running while we go find a place to break it! Some cabs take credit cards, some don�t. It�s best to ask this information before you leave, not after you arrive. Should you �suddenly realize� that you don�t have enough cash on you and you need to run in the house to get some, be prepared to leave something of value with me until you get back. Don�t flip me any crap about it either. I know you�re probably a nice person who would never rip anyone off, but so were all the other people who have ripped me off over the years! This is how the game works, just play along! Leave me with your backpack, your cell phone, your jacket, something of value so I don�t think you�re trying to run on me. Trust me, you don�t want me to think you�re running on me! Most cabbies carry some sort of weapon and we HATE being ripped off! Don�t worry, I�m not going to drive off with your �Hello Kitty� backpack. Honestly, I�d really rather have the cash.

This leads us to the topic of tipping (not, as they say, a city in China). YES, it is appropriate to tip your driver! How much? Well, that�s really up to you. The rule of thumb is to tip your cabbie the same as you would tip your bartender (you are tipping your bartender, aren�t you??). For example, let�s say your fare is $15. A tip of $2-4 is adequate. Anything less and you are a cheap bastard. More than that and you�re a Prince among men and/or a Queen among women (or a Queen among men, if you happen to swing that way!). A word of advice, though. Never, EVER say �I�m going to tip you out huge� or some other such nonsense. It�s a statistical fact that 96.3% of people who say this fall into the category of �cheap bastard.� If I think you�re a cheap bastard, I may use one of the above-mentioned tactics to run up your fare. Don�t threaten to tip me, just do it! That goes for your bartender, your tattooist, and your favorite nude dancer as well!

Now a quick word to those who never take cabs, who drive their cars instead, especially in the downtown area. Look folks, it�s simple. When you�re behind a taxicab, it�s like being behind a bus. Expect the vehicle to stop at some point. Do not ride my ass and then, when I stop to pick up a fare, start blaring your horn and flipping me off. You�re only making yourself look like an idiot. Do you do the same thing to busses? Do you tailgate TriMet drivers and scream obscenities at them at every bus stop? No. Then why do it to us? I�m just trying to do my job and sometimes, especially downtown, that job necessitates double parking for a very brief period of time. Sorry if I ruined your whole day.

Taking a cab can actually be a very enjoyable experience, once you understand how the whole process works. If you�re going out for a night on the town, don�t drive � call us! Think of us as a DUI insurance policy. Paying a cabbie $15-20 to get you home is far better than paying the State of Oregon $5000 plus, in addition to losing your license, having your insurance go way up, etc. Not to mention the fact that you may kill or maim yourself or someone else while driving drunk. Not worth it! Park your car and hop in. That�s what we�re here for!

You can save yourself a little bit of money by taking a few friends with you. Sure, it�s a buck extra for each additional passenger (yes, we charge for extra passengers � please don�t act surprised and give me grief about it when we reach your destination!). In the long run, splitting a $20 fare between 4 people makes taking a cab about as cheap as buying that cute blonde at the end of the bar a drink, and if you�re nice I may even give you my phone number, unlike the blonde! You see, many cabbies carry cell phones so our preferred customers can call us directly, without having to call dispatch. Not all cabbies do this but many do. If you like your driver, ask for a card. This is the best way to get a cab, by the way. Get your own personal driver! Keep in mind that I give priority to my �personals,� especially the ones that tip well.

Taxi Driver - You Talkin' me?

From your pizza delivery girl

So after about 2 years of being a pizza delivery girl, I�m fed up!

1. First off, lets put in a simple fact: Pizza delivery is considered a hazardous job by the US government. They are third most likely to be murdered on the job, right after police officers and taxi drivers. Myself being a 22 year old female, that risk is approximately 5 times greater. Although I�m not in the US, Canada has plenty of latent axe-wielding maniacs, disgruntled computer geeks that haven�t stepped out of their house in months, crazy cat ladies, pig men, and other potentially dangerous creatures. That brings me to my next point�

2. If I drive 10 km out of town to your trailer park, and you open the door in a sleeveless plaid shirt, and then ask me to come in, don�t get offended if I don�t. Don�t get offended if I take off running either. You might be a decent guy, but I�ve seen enough clich� axe murderer movies to know better.

3. Chances are, though, if you�re the creep in the plaid shirt living in the trailer park, I will probably like you a lot more than that family in the mansion in the most affluent part of town. Because, you, scary redneck friend, are probably going to tip me close to 30% of the order. Whereas foreign mansion family will end up giving me a 20 on a $19.80 order and generously tell me to keep the change. Ever wonder how some people can afford to live in a 6500 sq ft house with a swimming pool? They don�t tip.

4. That brings us to tipping. To the lady that asked me if I was in school, and upon my affirmative reply gave me a quarter, and said �I know how hard it is to be in school and work so hard� � Thanks!! You were pretty young too, and of course living in one of those mansions. I thought you�d know better. To the guy who told me I was really cute for a pizza delivery driver and left me no tip � thanks!! My cuteness won�t pay for nursing school. To the Korean broad that waited for me to count out the nickels and dimes and then got mad because I don�t carry pennies and thus couldn�t give exact change( 3 more cants), who then called my boss and told him she was �lipped off� ( think she meant ripped off) � Fuck you!

5. If you tell me you can�t afford to tip when I get there, you can�t afford delivery.

6. If you can�t afford delivery charges, you can�t afford delivery. To that guy who called the pizza place and asked us to deliver 2 towns over (we�re in Coquitlam, he was in maple ridge) and asked us to take off the delivery charge too because he can�t afford gas for even himself: Fuck you, you selfish prick. Clearly you know the price of gas these days, and you�re probably smart enough to know that the petroleum pixies don�t come and fill my tank every night, so don�t tell me it�s my loss when I refuse to deliver to you.

7. Lets put down some blatant honesty: I�m not hot. I can maybe pull off cute on a good day, so I don�t know why I suddenly transform into a goddess when I come to your door with food. Clearly you�ve been watching way too many pornos.

8. #7 goes double for rainy days. Apparently runny makeup and flat hair mixed with pizza are major turn for the lazy Dom asses of Coquitlam. No I don�t need a towel. No I will not come in to dry off. I can�t give you my number. What? No, really, I�m not into that.

9. Don�t get mad at me if we made a mistake on your pizza. Chances are you knew we were going to make a mistake if you check the pizza at the front door. Also, most of the high school kids I work with don�t have a clue as to what a quadrant is� �I want pineapple in quadrants 1 and 2, and ham in quadrants 1 and 4 and half of quadrant 3 with pepperoni� Gimme a fucking break!! . And who the hell orders pizza in quadrants anyways?

10. Don�t get mad at me if your pizza is 45 minutes late. I was trapped on some guy�s front porch while a bear was sniffing around my car that now permanently smells like a pizza. Yes, a bear. And don�t act surprised, we live in the middle of fucking nowhere. And don�t leave me no tip me because I�m �a liar�. If I wanted to swing by a friend�s house on my way to your place, I�d say I was caught in traffic, or something more believable than a fucking bear!

11. Speaking of traffic� The neighborhood where I work is predominantly foreign (I wont say what nationality but you can probably guess where bad drivers that happen to be non-tippers come from). So if I�m late because a hummer that has �environmental consultants� written on it (ah, how I love clich��s) runs a red and almost kills me, pardon fucking me if I have to pull over for a few minutes to collect myself, thus making your pizza 4 minutes later than the promised time.


Okay, I�m off to work now. Be nice to me!!!

Blind date joke

After being with her all evening, the man couldn't take another minute with his blind date. Earlier, he had secretly arranged to have a friend call him to the phone so he would have an excuse to leave if something like this happened.

When he returned to the table, he lowered his eyes, put on a grim expression and said, "I have some bad news. My grandfather just died."

"Thank heavens," his date replied. "If yours hadn't, mine would have had to!"

We shared a cab, you hit me in the face.

Hi! I am almost 100% positive you remember me. I was standing in the cab line for about 15 minutes in 1 degree weather, and then you and your girlfriend ran in front of me in the cab line right as my cab, that I had been waiting so long for out in the ball shivering cold, arrived. Now I admit, I am a nice guy, and women get to take advantage of me quite often, but that said I haven't been laid in months, and when that happens, I somehow feel that the goddess of feminine nurture and chivalry can... how do I put this? Suck my six inch piano player. This is the point where I told the cabby what you girls did, and informed him that he was throwing away the very long cab ride to Erie as well as his moral saint 1-month chip. At this point he had the very bad... very bad idea to give me (a drunken narcissist, in the right) a ride with the girls who shunted me most literally to the curb. This is where the sh*t show began. Your friend and you are both very attractive, but nevertheless I have become accustomed to, when necessary, seeing only the ugly souls of the monsters who arrogantly think they can get whatever they want. The cussing, the womanizing, the abuse, the screaming, and everything that ensued for the next 15 minutes, is unlike me. However I was not alone in this endevor, in fact I would go as far as to say that it was YOU two who did most of the screaming, and abusing. Nevertheless I stood up to the both of you. I let you know exactly how sh*tty it was to leave a stranger to freeze for the sake of your own toes. And although I am a tired soul, tired of fighting petty battles with girls, there are times when the wild thing from my youth finds the perfect combination of irritation and gravel to carve a path to the surface and cuss you the f*ck out. So I did. Somewhere along the way you hit me, good and hard across the face for addressing you by your lady parts. I probably deserved it. But even so, when your friend got out of the car, the attitude from the back seat was cut in half. This reduction in calamity is what made me flip around, to see you face to face for the next 10 minute drive to your home, perched on my knees, and just listen. I watched as you blasted me with insults and be-ration, never admitting nor denying that you intended to leave me on the cold cabby curb.Your visage melted from rage into a pool of confusion as I just sat there and listened. By the end, you were reduced to a puddle of tears, and as gratifying as it was, it is these empty moments that remind me why I hush my inner child to sleep, and open the door for you, and hold your purse, and buy you presents, and walk your dog, and keep you warm, and give you kind smiles. When you exited the cab, my body took me over, I hopped out and gave a "Hey!". You turned around, and I threw my arms out. "I'm Sorry!". You sheepishly just looked to me, and through the tears came a genuine moment. A deep smile. Full of the confusion and joy that comes with being twenty-something. I just wanted to say I appreciated that smile. In it, you told me that you were okay, that we are only human, that you value people over right and wrong. Expect to have a beer on me if I ever see you again.....

Elmo six minutes in Vision Quest

Tucson Life and Times of an American City

Collateral Movie Trailer Taxi Driver movie

Two girls and their "Dad"

Have a pick up at the Valero/Shamrock at Craycroft and 29th. It is an older guy putting two teenage girls in the cab saying they are going back to their Moms. Said they will go in and get money when they get there. They skip out at an apartment complex at 4th and 22nd.

Vanessa
505 429 8309

Please call or text this stealing little girl and tell her she sucks!

New year could bring end to Ariz. speed cameras

More than a year after Arizona became the first state in the country to deploy dozens of speed cameras on highways statewide, threats to the groundbreaking program abound.
Profits are far below expectations, a citizen effort to ban the cameras continues to gain steam, the governor has said she does not like the program, and more and more drivers getting tickets in the mail are ignoring them after hearing from fellow speeders that there are often no consequences to that choice.

Full Story

Woman's blood alcohol content topples state records

A Sturgis woman had a blood-alcohol level of .708 percent, possibly a state record, when she was found earlier this month behind the wheel of a stolen vehicle parked on Interstate 90, according to Meade County State’s Attorney Jesse Sondreal.

A South Dakota Highway Patrol trooper discovered Marguerite Engle, 45, on Dec. 1 passed out behind the wheel of a delivery truck reported stolen in Rapid City.

Her blood-alcohol level was almost nine times South Dakota’s legal limit of .08 percent.

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Dashboard Confessional l Taxi cab drivers

You get home from Thanksgiving break, and get in a car with a total stranger. You know nothing about him, but you tell him where you live. You get on the phone and let him hear the intricacies of your trip home, and all about the work you have to do once you reach campus. This stranger may learn all about your life, but he is not a threat, he is a Syracuse taxi driver.

Behind the useful service and quick pick-ups, are the people who often go unseen. And if you take the time to listen, they have some crazy stories and exciting projects to talk about.

Full Story

El Charro Cafe cooking guide from Tucson

Tucson Regional transit plan pros and cons

Regional Transportation Authority board members say there are far too many unanswered questions to move ahead quickly with creation of a regional transit system.
City and county transportation officials see merging Sun Tran with a slew of other transit programs under RTA control as a way to combat rising costs and their own government budget crunches. Elected officials who make up the RTA board were less enthusiastic.

Full story and Comments

Apologies Ian but I genuinely thought the Captain of any ship would take responsibility for the behaviour of his crewmembers, I was wrong!

Did my first fare and if that was anything to go by I should have gone home! I picked up four people, three girls and a bloke. The girls were OK but the bloke was one of those ‘look at me’ types….don’t you just love them? The girls all had food….mainly chips & cheese….and Mr Look-at-me decided it would be fun to try and steal some so he made a grab for the front passenger’s packet only to knock it onto her lap and spill chips etc.
As it was in her lap it wasn’t too bad and she repacked her food calling him a few choice names which he just laughed at and tried again for the packet. I told him to stop as he would make a mess of the taxi but as usual he knew best and tried for one of the other girls food. Lo and behold…..chips on the seat…chips on the floor….grated cheese mixed with both.

My exclamations of joy are not repeatable!

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Irene Cara-The Dream DC Cab

To the guy who tailgated me for 20 miles this morning

I get it. You wanted to go faster, and given that you drive a Mitsubishi Lancer maybe you are under the impression that you are fast and/or furious. I'm the guy who was in front of you for 20 miles from Alpine Junction to Ithaca, driving at various speeds with the constant being that you were so close to my rear end it felt like I was trapped in a changing room with Richard Simmons.

We met at 61 mph, a nice speed for Route 13 -- fast enough to not take forever and slow enough to go unremarked by the many police who patrol that road. You were unsatisfied and expressed it by staying a cool 5 feet off my bumper. I slowed down gradually to 55 mph. This was one of several opportunities to pass me, but you just slowed down too and stayed back there like you wanted to turn on a Sting album and spoon me. So I sped up again hoping that you'd get the message and let me keep the distance I had won between us...but no, you are a jealous sharer of the road, Mitsubishi Lancer. You caught up. For 10 more miles we were like cellmates and you tried to make me your bitch, but all you succeeded in doing was going 13 miles an hour slower than when you started tailgating me. How did that work out for you?

Coming down the hill into Ithaca I sped up again, figuring you'd been punished enough. So when you tried to give me the Sneaky Pete again, I admit I lost my cool and touched the brake for the first time. I hope you spilled your coffee on what I imagine were your Faded Glory pleated khaki pants. Then, in the two-lane road in town you didn't go around. You proceeded to follow me all the way to my parking place before giving me a look and going on your way to, I assume, the DMV where you work.

I offer you these common sense tips:

1. Tailgating is a dick move, and it's even more of a dick move if the guy in front of you is already well above the speed limit on a well-patrolled road.
2. If you are tailgating someone and they slow down, that's your cue to pass and if you can't pass, well then screw you because you are being a dick anyway.
3. It actually makes sense to leave some distance for you too. Have you seen all the deer carcasses on the road? That's because cars hit them. If a deer jumps in front of me and I have to slam on the brakes, I don't want you crashing into me. Based on your body, your reaction time is only fast in World of Warcraft.

Tucson hiking guide

I Saw Your Breasts By Accident

I just happened to be walking my dog in the atwood area when I looked up at an apartment building and you were standing at your window topless, perfect as a figure cut out of a painting, your breasts so firm and yet plump in a way that suggested you would yield to the right touch. I went home and listened to classical music for an hour, trying desperately to recreate that feeling I had when I saw your breasts in the window, that transcendent serenity one feels only in the presence of art. When the music didn't work, I baked a cobbler - peach, my grandmother's most prized recipe - and sat on the floor of my living room, eating it with my hands, savoring not only the taste, but the warmth of the filling, and the just-right flakiness of the outside. I could've been in the remotest land on Earth, untouched by civilization - my perception felt that pure. All afternoon I've been floating inside; those breasts were a minor miracle in the midst of this gray, cold week. Thank you.

Tom Tom GPS Navigator

You in the SNOW CAR

Yeah, YOU.

Lazy, ignorant, non-snow-removing phucktard speeding through rush hour traffic on glare ice with 10% visibility.

What is your major malfunction, dipshit?

I see that you are driving a $40,000 luxury SUV, but you cannot afford a $5 snow brush?

It makes me HOMICIDALLY ENRAGED when I see a fucking SNOWBANK with a small patch of hazed over windscreen clear, weaving in and out of heavy traffic, leaving a blizzard of powder in its wake. Sometimes, if they tromp on the gas, half the snow on the roof falls onto the car behind them. Ice encrusted wipers pump furiously to clear away the snow blowing back from their uncleared hood, and if they step on the brakes an avalanche will block their vision entirely.

Fuck you, snow car . . . I want to kill you.

I saw dozens of snow forts zooming around Downtown this morning. Because it is too much work to warm up your car for a few minutes while clearing the snow with a brush. And they are going to be late to punch in . . . again.

Okay, phucktard, here is what you do. Stop popping those Prozacs, turn off your cellphone, and have a cuppa coffee. Then, go outside, clear the driver side door, open it, start your vehicle, turn the defrost on, relock your vehicle (with the spare key none of you yuppie fucks seem to have) and go back inside. Relax for a few minutes while the car warms up. Then, grab your broom and go out there and push the fucking 8" of snow off the roof of your car! After that, you can clear the rest, using a snowbrush and scraper to get the areas the broom can't do. There you go, nice squared away, warm vehicle with full visibility that will not be such a menace to every other motorist.

Sometimes I try to visualize what you are doing inside the snow car. I see you listening to shitty music at full volume while balancing a bowl of breakfast cereal on your lap and texting a friend about where you'd like to get drunk after work. I despise you, snow car. And you should be thankful that anti-tank rockets are so hard to come by.

To the guy who probably though I was a stalker

On Saturday night (technically Sunday morning) at about 2:30 am, I follow you down King Street starting at somewhere around George Street and until Broad Street. Judging by the number of times you turned around, you probably thought I was stalking you. I promise I'm not some creeper, but I will admit I was using you. I apologize and feel like I owe you an explanation. I periodically make the poor decision to walk home from the bars alone. However, I have have a two-part safety system that has thus far worked out quite well. You were unwittingly part one of my plan.

Part one: Quasi-group up with someone/some people. I prefer a group of at least one guy and at least one girl, but I settled for you last night. I keep the perfect distance from my quasi-group. Far enough back so that you can't easily get me, but close enough so that if shit goes down, you can hear me struggle or scream and (hopefully) come help.

Part two: the raptor claw. You played no role in this part of the strategy, but I thought I'd share so you can fully appreciate what you were unknowingly involved in last night. I make a fist and put my house key in between my fingers and backed up to my palm. Like a stealthy raptor, I plan to stab an attacker with my killer claw. Secretly, I always take a couple of practice raptor claw strikes and sometime roar in my head. You have no idea how entertaining this is when you're drunk.

I don't expect you to respond. I sure as hell wouldn't if some crazy girl talked about being a dinosaur. I just thought you deserved an explanation since you might have prevented an attack. A raptor attack. ROAR

Insiders guide to Tucson

An Open Letter to My Fellow Commuters

Greetings, clueless fucks! It is I, the gentleman in the miniature toy car. You may be wondering why I have taken this opportunity to address you all so. Rest assured it is not because I revel in your sad sack, dimwitted company, but because I have made several observations in my many years on the road, which I now wish to share with you, the oblivious traveling public.

Alaska, and Anchorage in particular, is an interesting collection of upstanding citizens from all regions, affiliations and sociopathic backgrounds. Naturally, this diversity is often best on display on our roads and highways, few as they are. Our lack of a major freeway system doesn't stop you from showing your true driving colors though, does it? Heck no! In fact, many of you seem to have collectively chosen the four-lane Glenn Highway as your preferred personal proving grounds, particularly during the festive morning and evening rush hours. And now that freezing temperatures and winter winds have finally settled upon the Great Land, now is a hilarious time of year to really ramp up your blackhearted, destructive and/or utterly ignorant efforts to maim, kill or just annoy those around you to the point of road rage-induced coronaries. So let's get started, and take a look at some of the ways in which you can more efficiently make my daily commute a pants-shitting nightmare, okay?

1) Sit your retarded fat ass in the fast lane, and drive like you're stoned. This not only keeps the speedmongers lining up behind you safe and sound, but allows you the chance to make new friends as they're forced to pass you on the right, motioning wildly to you with various finger gestures. Don't be fooled! Those are just some of the friendly symbols many of today's hip urban youth employ. Be sure to wave back and smile, if you even happen to look up and notice that you're the vehicular equivalent of a blood clot.

2) If you're the kind of dumb fat fuck who already sits your retarded fat ass in the fast lane, then consider mixing it up a bit by suddenly plunging down on the gas pedal when the line of cars behind you is attempting to pass on the right. Show others who's really in charge of that fast lane by then slowing down again to the posted legal limit. This playful back-and-forth will really crack up the groggy worker bees behind you, and you'll take pride in knowing you're the biggest fucking douchebag around.

3) Dress up your vehicle. No one likes a drab rear end to stare at while motoring. Fellas, if you're compensating for that sad, limp excuse of a dick with an oversized hillbilly truck you can barely afford, then by all means hang some pretend droopy balls from the undercarriage. I know I chuckle every time I have to explain those to my five year-old daughter. But don't stop at disgusting and ironically homoerotic displays of fake testicles - throw in a set of smokestacks, extra large tires, or a sticker that proclaims your disdain/love for Obama/Bush, other truck manufacturers, a particular brand of snowmachine/dirt bike, fat girls, etc. Make sure to let us know exactly how you feel about the Sierra Club, how you define marriage, and what type(s) of animal(s) you hunt with your rifle/shotgun/bow/rod. Also, don't forget Calvin pissing on or worshipping something.

Ladies, we want more flowers! Big dumb hippie flowers that say, "Hey! You in the subcompact hatchback! I may look like another fat girl in a large SUV with a lazy 4-speed auto, but I've got sass!" Nothing gets my day started off better than being stuck behind another "organic Alaska girl", an Alaska girl who "kicks ass", or just some conceited trophy wife whose kids excel at their Christian charter school. It's a hoot! Also, don't forget to remind us of your lost loved ones, especially if they died tragically in their mid-20s while drinking/smoking meth/popping oxycodone and riding their motorcycles/ATVs/snowmachines. And you hockey moms? Let's hear it, you betcha!

4) It's Alaska. It snows. And nothing says "excitement" like being tail-gated in traffic during a snow shower on a slick of black ice, am I right? Sure, the tool in the Suburban in front of me with the USAF - RET'D sticker won't let me go any faster, but that's no reason you can't jam the nose of your '96 Legacy beater a little farther up under my rear bumper! Just because the blinding snow has reduced visibility to near white-out conditions doesn't mean you should ease off, Mario. We can clearly see from the rust eating away at every square inch of your piece of shit ride that you're local, so obviously you know what you're doing. Thanks for the thrill of potential death, though!

5) When in doubt, cut someone off. This is a solid rule of thumb that comes in handy any time of year (though it becomes more exhilarating when the snow flies). Let's say you're in the slow lane, but that giant fucking Lynden road train just won't move its ass. You glance to your left (or not), and notice (or don't) that I'm in my scale model car next to you, or so close to your left rear bumper that any lane change on your part at this point would cause me to suddenly slam on my brakes in horroOH LOOK you did it anyway! Now that's taking the initiative! Who has time for a turn signal? Not me! I'm too busy swerving and dry heaving! A well executed maneuver, sir, kudos to you. And now for the pies de resistance - since you've managed to cut into the fast lane, refer back to step one, and sit your retarded fat ass there, blocking the unlucky souls behind (especially since that huge Lynden rig is still lumbering along on the right).

TUCSON JAMZ at THE HUT

Could have gotten a cab for that!

BJ for Bus Pass?

First of all, when you asked me how i was doing and i said "alright" i was lying. in actuality i was trippin' hard off a really strong pot cookie. how strong? let's just say i'd been skipping the previous buses because i couldn't figure out how to stand up without my eyes falling out of their sockets. add in the factor that my hearing isn't so good from spending way too much money on concerts and i couldn't really understand what you were mumbling when you whispered, "blow you for a bus pass?"

I feel bad now for making you repeat yourself like 3 times and still not understanding what the hell you were talking about - I mean, yeah, I understood you needed money for bus fare, but i couldn't quite wrap my brain around the fact that you were offering fellatio in exchange. I mean, it's only four fucking dollars - you could very easily scrounge that up by just asking for spare change. Or were you actually trying to hustle up a transfer too?

Either way, I said something like "sorry, can't help you," cuz' i was having a hard enough time trying not to melt down every time the train whistle went off. it then dawned on me what you'd been getting at and i got so nervous and nauseous i had to go sit down. it was a weird combination of disgust, panic, and arousal - like, well, i've never been with a guy, and under choicer circumstances would probably prefer a regular out of the closet healthy moe in designer jeans, and maybe it's the pot talking, but maybe i could be into this. like, where would we go? an alleyway or bathroom? i can't imagine even keeping it up under such a scenario, and like, would you bring a rubber, and that wouldn't even necessarily protect me from genital warts, herpes, or what-not. I mean, what's the etiquette here?

either way, the prospect of bartering a bus pass for a BJ from a stranger in or around a public place was just the kind of random sleazy offer a guy spaced out on massive quantities of THC needs to round out his day. considering the spousal unit goes down on me maybe twice a year if i'm lucky, i probably should have said what the hell and saved you the trouble of approaching other men. that, or just given you the freakin' money no strings attached. hope you found a ride.