Miss Complains-a-lot. A LOT.

So yesterday, I managed to cram an impressive number of errands in to the time between 9 am and 11 am, before I had to motor up to work at 12. One of these tasks was getting the truck over to the emissions testing facility for that lovely ritual that takes place every two years around here.

The car in front of me was piloted by an emo girl. What's an emo girl? Well imagine this, but female, and add oh so trendy horn rim glasses.


That's an emo girl. We got off on the wrong foot immediately, when she exited her vehicle and was mooning me. I probably would have had much props for her had this been on purpose. But alas, no, she was just a victim of poor fashion sense. Or rather, fashion sense was a victim of this girl. So, as I averted my eyes (and I did, too, I even put a hand over them. It really wasn't an attractive sight) and thought to myself (aloud, even) "pull up your damn pants" I figured that was the last this girl would inflict on me.

Oh, boy oh boy was I in for a TREAT! And not a good treat, like a steak and a BJ on a day other than steak and a BJ day (a statement I'm sure to get in hot water for, but I think it's a funny concept), like socks for Christmas when you're 5 years old and just wanted OPTIMUS PRIME THANKS FOR NOTHING MOM!...whoops, sorry, a little of that repressed youth rage just escaped.

Inside the little corral booth where they throw you while they put your car through the oh-so-rigorous test of throttling it up and down in order to see if it emits emissions (woo!) she managed to invoke my ire quite a number of times. She narrowly escaped a verbal smack down from yours truly, but only barely. I'm talking my teeth being shaved down a millimeter from grinding them so damn hard.

For starters, she was bitching about only having a quarter tank of gas when she got there. Earth to dumb girl: don't come to a testing facility in which they actively run your vehicle if you think you're low on gas. A trained monkey could figure that one out. Then, she proceeded to ramble on about how she would bill the government for her gas. That one almost got the taste slapped out of her mouth for her. Mainly because she's one of those "fear the government" types, yet, she can't see that the very act of emissions testing and regulation is one of those things the government GOT RIGHT. Dumbass.

Have I mentioned she still hasn't pulled her pants up? She's pulled her shirt and requisite hoodie down, but there's still way too much pants down action going on.

From there it was mainly bitching and moaning about how long it was taking. Well, guess what, sugar? If the sensors pick up emissions during the first pass through the cycle, you have to do the whoooole test to see just how much your car is killing us softly with its smog (that was a glorious pun, and I want kudos, damn it). Not the nice workers fault your car with the trendy bumper stickers didn't fast pass.

Shortly thereafter, which was good for both my teeth and her mortality rate, her car was done and she huffed out of there (she even slammed the door, good for her! You show that inanimate object what for!) and off she went, off to Starbucks to overpay for some coffee concoction and blog about what an inconvenience it is to have to have your emissions tested (I realize the irony inherent here, and if you point it out, may your god of choice help you. :D).

Me? My truck fast passed and I was out of there 5 minutes later. Without me, it's simply aweso.