After many years of hijinx ($19.95 vans turning into $369.82 vans, pick up locations in Chilliwack, drop off locations in hell, etc), the shit teeth collective at U-haul command-control-centre (perhaps located in U-tah?) sent my sister and I to an abandoned, boarded up building in the middle of Nowheresville, Vancouver Island to pick up a truck.
Here's a surprise: there was no truck there.
Here's another surprise: Client Relations Manager "Zariak" (no surname, which means he more akin to Jesus and Cher, than mere mortals like you and I) told me a real zinger on the phone after I called 1-800-NO-BALLS. He told me, "There's nothing I can do for you."
Well, "Zariak", why the fuck do you have a job then?
"There's nothing I can do for you" is something I would expect from:1) Celine Dion (who also has no balls)
2) Lamb-Chop (who has neither balls nor a spine)
3) Bad jokes about spousal abuse (which take balls and often involve not the fun kind, but that other kind of beating)
Anyway, I won't get into the other things I hate about U-haul (the name, the hyphen in the name, the shorthand convenience of the name, the font, its u-move monopoly here in Canada, the vehicle checks, the orange everything...you get the idea)Okay so I did get into it, but here's the real blog for today:
You may have noticed the resurgence of douchebag in popular culture. Sure, when John Mayer wears a douchebag shirt, it's whimsical and poignant and delightful in all the ways it should be. However, when you actually meet a douchebag, they are none of these things.
Don't know what a douchebag is and are too lazy to click on the hyperlinks above? You're my kind of people. Watch this instead!
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