Talkback with Junk Infinite insights into the cavernous world of Chunk’s Garage & Life in general.

Ever notice that bums are very clever in that they will slowly ease themselves into your life without you realizing they are a parasitic soul-sucker? They start off harmless enough in appearance, they may have even helped you by watching your pets while you went on vacation, or cut your lawn. Shit, they may have even brought a 12-pack of beer over to your house and left a can behind as a show of their selflessness. But that’s how they get in. Now once they are in, they embed themselves like a tick, and slowly suck your life force away like a 3rd world case of high pressure diarrhea.

These people count on our good upbringing and polite demeanor to keep them from hitting the curb in the ass over teakettle hip toss that they really deserve. These oxygen to CO2 conversion plants are so great in number, that you yourself have undoubtedly fallen victim to them.

Here are some warning signs for you to watch for:

1. You are cooking food and they somehow smell your cooking 2 towns away and show up uninvited.
2. They throw a log thru your antique gas pump out of anger because you ran out of food; a week later they come back feeling you have had ample time to “get over it”. (see W/S #1)
3. After a cookout and they have already show up uninvited and eaten enough for 4 guests, they come back with Tupperware to take back some “leftovers”. When you tell them that you have nothing more for them, they chuck the Tupperware over the fence into your neighbors yard (that has a job) and stomp off cursing you.
4. Their parents don’t want them hanging out at their house (after the kids are over 40, I tend to support that feeling) so they come over to your house to waste time since their “asshole parents” wouldn’t let them keep a tree fort. At which time they borrow your stuff, break it or never return it. They drink your beer, eat your food, stay too long and alienate your normal friends that actually have jobs, common sense, and personal property worth over $25. These types are the black knights of leeching. Politely obtain a restraining order.

I hope this helps. I need a cold compress from the pain of sharing.

-Junk

1. Entering your account information on the phone, is nothing more than an excersise in futility; after you wait on hold for another 45 minutes, a call center person will ask you for it again.



2. When someone asks if they can ask you something “off the record”, say no.



3. Gummy Bears when microwaved, DO NOT become “Gummy Bear Juice.”



4. A shot glass filled with Gummy Bears after being subjected to 350 degree microwave heat WILL explode when immediately quenched with 50 degree cold water from the sink.



5. A fart is nothing more than a turd in sheep’s clothing. Believe.



6. Call center personnel really don’t give a shit how you feel, ever.



7. If you decide to fall down the steps of a 250 year old barn, try not to be impaled on the rusty nails that penetrate the inside walls from retaining the shingles on the opposite side of said barn.



8. A toy machine gun, while made of plastic, can smash a living room window.



9. Some people need a disclaimer like “Hot coffee burns” on their coffee cups. Once upon a time, silver spray paint didn’t have a warning such as “Point nozzle away from face before spraying.”



~Junk

Let’s touch on unpleasant things that we’d rather keep to ourselves. For the sake of healing, sometimes we simply need to take a deep breath, clench our teeth and toss the 50 pound sack of putrid shit on the table and deal with what comes out when you loosen the draw string.

One double edged sword is that of the ex wife. It’s good that they are your ex, and not your current spouse……….agreed. But the flip side is that they are your ex and may still to some degree have to interface with you…..ouch. You just want the ride to stop so you can get off and take a nice cleansing vomit for yourself and gather your thoughts….or suppress them.

One thing I was taught in my ethics class was about how some folks will commit heinous acts and then come to the realization that what they did just wasn’t cool. This realization is but a 1/100000000 of a second worth of thought. The next chunk of time is spent coming up with an alternate reality to justify said act so the individual can look at themselves in the mirror every day without sensing the immediate need to slit their wrists for the good of mankind.

Before I ramble, I’ll leave you with this: When the ex decides to bang your best friend, drain your bank account, sells everything you own, steals your kids AND THEN treats you like you are the root cause of the world’s problems and gets a judge to hammer the bung out of the bottom of you; don’t feel like the Lone Ranger. Don’t blame yourself, don’t hire a contract killer, just know that in the end, they will account for what they did. Just like you and I will have to account for what we have done. Vengeance ain’t yours home skillet. As much as we want it to be, it ain’t ours; believe that.

Chances are, your ex wife will make someone else a nice ex wife one day too. Then you will have someone else to have something in common with. You may even be able to counsel him and make him(and yourself) feel better.

Given the choice, I’ll take the sloppy shart in public, during a meeting, wearing white pants with no drawers underneath. I’m sure you’ll agree.

Sharing complete, I’m out.

~Junk

I used to laugh at the funny pics of people getting “OWNED!” on that particular website, it used to humor me, until I was owned myself. By whom you might ask? By Dulles airport that’s who. United Airlines had a hand in it too, so piss on them as well. It started off with a mechanical problem with my plane. We couldn’t board on time, but would be “kept up to date.” As I sat there waiting to be “kept up to date”, the announcing system was rambling off requests for people to give up their seat because the plane was overbooked as well. I had to ask someone what was being said because I couldn’t understand the dialect being spoken.

Not known to many, but after Miss Cleo’s psychic business took a shit in her turban, she went to work announcing gibberish at Dulles airport. So 30 minutes later, I learn that the flight is no longer on the screen. So curious, I investigate. “Your flight just left, you missed it.”, is what I got from the customer service desk. No announcement that we were boarding? No,”Mr Stewart please board the plane.” Nothing. And when I asked point blank why there was NO announcement whatsoever, I was given “Well 48 people boarded the plane.” WTFO? What does that mean? So here’s your next flight, four hours later, at 4:30 pm. “I can’t print your boarding pass so go to the computer kiosk and reprint your card.” Little did I know, you CAN’T FRIGGEN REPRINT A BOARDING PASS IF YOUR ASS MISSED YOUR FLIGHT AND WERE REBOOKED. So I get on the little black phone and wait for the person who doesn’t giveashit on the other end to pick it up. When that person answered, I am not only told that I cannot print a boarding card from the machine, but the person working the desk never rebooked me; and oh by the way, the next flight you have a chance at getting on now is at 10:30pm.

Side note: Next time you are in the airport, look at those kiosks by the gates for the computer based customer service and note the black phones. They look like someone used them as a framing hammer to build 200 houses. The receiver hooks, if they are even still attached, look as if they caught every fastball thrown in the entire history of baseball.

So like I was saying, I gently hung up the phone like everyone else who was awarded the “Pork Sword Award” from United, and worked my way back to the nice lady who “helped” me. After hinting that I would rather spend the next 10 hours in a holding cell than sit in this pissedthefuckoffstate at the airport waiting for someone to grow some giveshit, she found a computer to print my boarding card for the 4:30 flight. Thanks. So go to gate C14; which is across BFE’s western border. Off I go.

After getting shuttled over there, and waiting for a few hours, Miss Cleo’s little brother finds a microphone and says the gate has shifted…..and get this, right back to where I started in terminal A. You can’t make this shit up people.

So I go back, and wait another hour. And we get to board, I sit down in the pissandshit smelling seat you get when you are seated in the last row and the toilet is broken.. Then suddenly, as if echoing my hope in the airline, I hear the APU wind down and give up the ghost.

Junkipedia: APU (n) Auxiliary Power Unit. A small gas turbine engine used to generate electrical power for the plane. Things like A/C, lights, and broken airplane lavatories that smell like a tenured port-a-potty at the Big Dig use electricity provided from this piece of equipment.

So then moments later from the flight deck PA: “Uh thanks for bearing with us but the route we are set to take is shut down for weather, we expect to be able to take off at about 8pm, so we need you to deplane.” At this point, I was looking for Ashton Kutcher to come barreling out of the shitter and tell me I was Punk’d. But the only thing that came from the airplane dunny was the same odor of feces and urine I had smelled all along.

Do you ever wonder what the circumstances are surrounding an event, when you read about crazy assholes losing their mind at an airport and doing outlandish shit that cause them to be tazered and arrested?

I don’t anymore. I know. And please, don’t taze me bro.

So I deplane, and realize that there are now close to 300 people in line at the customer service desk, just waiting for someone behind the desk to cop an attitude so they can be famous on the evening news. It seemed as though everyone was getting the “ Dulles Blue Plate Special.” So knowing I had a few more hours of waiting, I go for a walk to get away from the desk, and gate. I tell my buddy I was traveling with to call me if something changes. After I walk about 30 minutes away, I get a call. “Hurry man, we are boarding NOW”.

Ever wear flip-flops so you don’t have to screw with taking off shoes for the security checkpoint? Ever try to run 30 minutes worth of strolling back to a gate in flip-flops? Stab a paring knife into your calves and start running in normal shoes, that’s about as close as you will ever get to duplicating it. I made it the first 100 yards before I took them off and ran Kenyan marathon style back to the gate. Escalators really weren’t meant to run down without footwear on either. But you do what you have to do.

Junk wisdom: If you can avoid flying through Dulles, do yourself a solid and avoid it. Consider a pack mule if you have no other alternative. The golden age of airlines has come and gone folks. Customer service is a lost art, seldom practiced in today’s age; and never at the airport. At the airport, the customer service sign is used because it isn’t “PC” to display a sign that reads “The Circle Jerk Begins Here.”

I made the plane and got to my final destination, tired, weary, and stinking like that toilet in the back, but I got there. Doom on you Miss Cleo, and your brother. You couldn’t stop me. Doom on you Dulles airport for throwing me a side of beef and asking me how I liked it. If I had a rape whistle, I would have worn it out that day.

Thank you Lord for getting me here in one piece, and keeping me from being tazed.