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February 21, 2009 |
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Boys Toys
FOUND by Doug Ozeroff
in Victoria, BC, Canada
This note was found on the steps of a building on a college campus. It was obvious that many people had walked on it and that it had also been folded neatly into a square. The odd thing is that the closest parking lot was a 10 minute walk away.
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We collect FOUND stuff: love letters, birthday cards, kids' homework,
to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, telephone bills, doodles -
anything that gives a glimpse into someone
else's life. Anything goes...
Nice way to do those capital A's.
I don't really get the note, though. Why can't a guy's car be his toy? Smacks of jealousy. I can just see the Abercrombie and Hollister boys with their perfect clothes, perfect hair products, and vaporous clouds of cloying scent... and someone penning this note because the spoiled boys are so entirely annoying.
Writer doesn't know much about guys....
The bitch "boys" are getting on the author's fucking nerves, I guess.
This is what serious brain damage looks like, when veiwed through handwriting.
reminds me of the dudes that used to do donuts in the high school parking lot.
here's a question: where you grew up, was driving your car quickly in circle called "doin' donuts" or "whippin' shitties"? i think it varies regionally. like "duck, duck, goose" or "duck, duck, grey duck".
Woah...serious anger in that penmanship. But once again, the overuse of the "f" word detracts from what could be effective communication.
I'm with Joanne Woodward: the excessive use of profanity demonstrates a poor vocabulary. And if you're trying to sound like a mature adult, "f" every few words isn't going to help.
abikin. Snu, il aerthien nuk (ga, nuk!) taaddin na tadden orszlit. Fen sa sagler en sagler, fendit sag saler, ya? Huis in talle, im in isit tob rolle, det.....
.....Ek. Atten in kiner.....
Beidde danin.
I am wondering if instead of Ambercrombie boys these are Tu Pac Boys with their 600000000000000 watt stereos with the 5000 square foot subwoofers blasting. I know I have wanted to chuck a grenade or two into these types of vehicles more than once.
Ooooh Finsterton, I wish you'd used the word LOB. Lob a grenade. Doesn't that just sound cool? I'm right with ya though. If I'm paused at a red light and some thumper stereo jerk is assaulting my airspace with their noise, I start honking my horn to the beat of their "music." It annoys the hell out of them.
I thought this said
"Hey Fuckens"
@ ceesick: We also "do donuts" down here in the Land of Lincoln.
One icy day recently, I accidentally did a donut in my Jeep in the parking lot at the grocery store. It was such a rush, I had to do another intentionally, just for the sheer joy of feeling like a teenager again. Yeeeeee-haaaaaa!
I think the note was intended for Bob Uecker and family, but the notewriter misspelled the last name "Eucker."
For your information, profane note writer, my car is my toy and my bedroom and my kitchen and my living room.
Bug off.
Anyone who uses the word ain't has no credibility with me.
Play on, Boys.
Doug Ozeroff should send this in to Passive Aggressive Notes.
And I'm stuck wondering what the "boys" were doing that pushed the writer to write the f-ing note!
Were they pushing the car around the parking lot making loud car noises? R-r-r-r-r-r-r.
Abercrombie boys are Tupac boys. But anyway. I don't think music is the problem here. I think these guys tinker around with their cars all the time and then they rev up the engine annoyingly for fifteen minutes at a time, then they take off, peeling out of the parking lot, peeling down the street, peeling around the corner, EEEERRRRR!!!
I have experienced such inconsideration--a time or two.
in highschool I had a boyfriend with a gorgeous red and black Chevy Chevelle Malibu (classic) I don't remember what year, but 69 or 70-ish.
We'd go "out" on a Friday or Saturday night, and he'd park that stupid car so it faced a building wall or some other large, flat surface, and he could ADJUST HIS HEADLIGHTS for two hours.
No, that car wasn't just his toy. It was his fiancee.
Poor little Fuckens. He's been dreaming of joining "the Fuck Up Boys" ever since he turned 16 and got his driver's license. But when they caught him, red-handed, playing with his car, they left a cranky note on his windshield indicating that he needs to grow (before they'll consider letting him in their club).
where/when I come from, it was "spinnin' brodies." Or cookies. Or donuts. But mostly brodies.
What language is Farmer speaking today? I thought it might be Dutch, so I dropped it off at Babelfish- the only thing that came back to me in English was (Go, Mood!) and the words after, house and worries.
Bored in the clubhouse, that's brilliant. I can't wait to try it.
@Note to Ceesick: Don't worry about it. Farmer's been in a world of his own for a week or so now. Why shouldn't he have his own language?
Idioglossia...or do I mean glossolalia?
@ sick in tired ... if it's his own langauge it isn't glossolalia. Idiolalia, maybe. Idioglosia, perhaps. But not the former.
@ Flargy ... I hope your wheels are bullet proof. At least in some places I've lived, it would be a consideration.
@Mountain girl ... he was probably trying to work up the nerve to get his hands on your 'headlights'. Sounds like he never did.
@ Librarian: I think your comment to me was misdirected. I'm passing it on to Cruisin the Drag. Not a prob.
Sadly, I didn't have any "headlights" to speak of, back then. I was a late bloomer.
My car isn't a toy either, boys.
It's a taxi, a library, a movie theater, a fast food restaurant, a boxing ring, a karaoke venue, a garbage disposal, a lecture hall, a gameroom, a counseling center and a portable first aid center.
But it most certainly is NOT a toy.
My car is a toy*box*. With a 2-year-old and a 5-year-old, it contains nothing but McD's Happy Meal toys, books, crayons, copious amounts of Cherios, little jackets and blankies and stuffed toys.
Any adult who has to get into the back will find themselves ankle-deep in molded plastics and juice boxes.
@brain problem: Do you like to play, "What's That Smell" too? Or, "What The Hell Is Rolling Around Back There"?
Good times, good times.
@Mom Interrupted: Oh, and don't forget "Car Statues", always preceded by the growled question: "Am I going to have to stop this car?"
@ Mountain Girl ... so right! That's what I get for trying to speed type on a weekend.
@Mom Interrupted...
Actually, "What's That Smell?" was one I played in my single and untethered days... the winning stench being a close call between dead frog and rotten potato.
"What the Hell is Rolling Around Back There?" was appropriate when I had one of those stuffed animals with the box in it that makes noise, but only when you whack it. Living on a dirt road, it made very appropriate "boing" noise with every pot-hole.
note to Ceesick in MN: There is the The Dialectizer, which will translate words into funny dialect. http://rinkworks.com/dialect/
I think, however, Farmer is just having too much fun.
The little sporty models college guys favour are usually too small to be comfortably used as a fucking toy...which is why they all buy the after-factory reclining passenger seat. Then it IS a fucking toy...purpose built for fucking in.
So, are these boys are are these not boys? The quotation marks throw me off.
Haha. At first I thought it said "your oar..."
aha-wha-hahah-ttt.....
Don't you worry about me, Librarian. Living where I do, you develop a keen sense as to who you can - and who you can't - fuck with. I assure you, my wheels will be just fine.