Technobo rant...

*they've been doing endless construction between my place and where I work*

I was biking down through the causeway this morning, and there were 3 choices. Attempt using the walking path on the far side of the road ( which, due to the construction, is dangerous enough that I wouldn't even attempt it on foot ) biking with ( or against traffic ) OR... heading down through the so-called construction zone ( where there were 2 trucks with Highfield employees sitting on the
tailgates having coffee... IE - no one was working )

So, I took the logical choice, and zipped down through the construction zone, seeing as it made sense. Made it to the far side ( the lights down by the causeway shops ) where one of the Highfield boys caught up to me in his car and flagged me to pull over. He then told me that they couldn't have people going through the construction zone because they can't have someone get hurt. I was nice... nodded and agreed and went on my way, because I know that he's just doing his job. But seriously...the least chance I have of getting hurt ( and I've learned from experience ) is heading through the so-called construction zone. Simply because there ain't no one doing jack.
So my option from this point on is to cross my fingers and hope a car doesn't decide to maul me while I'm playing in traffic. Sounds brilliant, ya fucking tools.

So that's my happy story for today. Soon to come > a can of Chunky soup that's been sitting outside for 6+ months.

Matt "Technobo" Turner.

"Give like Santa, save like Scrooge"

"And now, a word from our nameless, faceless technobo accomplice."


Fucking public washrooms. My way of getting back at society is going into a public washrooms and pissing all over the seats and the top of the tank and anywhere else I can get away with. I also often piss on the toilet paper as well. If it is one of those public washrooms where you can lock the door and have private access to the sink I oftin piss all over the sink and the tap handles. I WANT TO TAKE A SHIT IN A URINAL SOME DAY AND JUST LEAVE IT THERE. FUCK YOU PUBLIC!

Yesterday I took one of my Mastercraft brand screwdrivers into Canadian Tire. The bit at the end had sheered off when when I was using it to force a rusted, seized machine screw out of my little truck. The reason why I have spent a little more on my hand tools and bought Mastercraft and/or Craftsman (Sears) brand is because they'll replace them if they break over the lifetime of the tool. Sounds simple, right?

I walked over the the customer service desk and stood around for about 7 or 8 minutes before being greeted by a "mousy" lady of below average stature. She was the type of person whom just by looking at them you can tell they are defective in some way. From the first nanosecond I saw her, I somehow knew there was no way I was walking out of there with a replacement screw driver...

I showed her my screwdriver with the snapped off bit at the end and requested my replacement. She took the driver from me and started examining it. I saw her mentally noting the fact the shaft wasn't completely straight and slightly bent. Then then ran her fingers over some gouges and heavy scratches in the plastic handle and handed the driver back to me. She told me I would not be getting a replacement driver at no charge because their lifetime breakage warranty does not cover cases where tools break while being abused or in an application which isn't their intended function. I asked to clarify about how this applies to me. She told me the bit at the end obviously broke off while I was using the screwdriver to pry against something, bending the shaft and snapping the bit at the end off. I assured her that the shaft had been bent for years. I wasn't getting anywhere.... I argued and explained that tools are made to be used as tools and not treated like they are your grandmother's fine china. I assured her I had not "abused" this screwdriver or used it for any purpose other then the insertion and removal of #2 torx machine screws. I left out the bit about once using it and a bent up coat hanger to abort a fetuses when I was running that back ally abortion clinic but thats another story for another day.

She was being very clear about me not getting a replacement. I asked for the manager, apparently she WAS the manager on duty at the time. I started to get angry and use profanity. She then started lecturing me about using such offensive language when I interrupted her. "Where is your washroom?"
She paused and told me.

So I went into the washroom, locked the door and took a giant dump in the middle of the floor. I then stuck the screwdriver in it and left. FUCK YOU CANADIAN TIRE!

So what did you guys do on Wednesday?

"From everyone's favorite crasy hobo, here's more 'Words to shout at a giant number 3'."


I have been thinking of this since I had a strange bathroom experiance the other day. While strange bathroom experiences in public washrooms aren't at all uncommon this one stood out. The person in the stall next to me was sitting on the can backwards, his feet facing the toilet tank... I suspect he was doing drugs off the toilet tank because thats the only reason I can think of why you would sit on the shitter this way. Seeing my stall neighbor sitting on the can backwards sparked some interesting thoughts about odd bathroom behavior:

When toilet training is done, it is usually done by the parent of the same sex as the child. Fathers will teach little boys to use the toilet and mothers will teach little girls. Since our society dictates urination and more so deification to be private affairs. If this training is done improperly, it will not go uncorrected and continue for a lifetime more or less unnoticed and without intervention by others. These people not be corrected but they will spread their "bathroom incompetence " to the next generation if they are of the same sex as the offspring.

A 35 year old man, lets call him Larry; takes a shit on the toilet by sitting on the can backwards, facing the toilet tank. He does this because this is how his father taught him when toilet training him 34 years ago. Since deification is a private affair, no one else has seen Larry doing this. Since this odd way of taking a shit has never been seen or corrected by others, Larry thinks its completely normal. Larry later teaches his 1 year old to use the toilet and shows him how to take a shit the same way. He continues to defecate this way for the rest of his life. His son, also does this for the rest of his life and teaches his little boy the same. Its rather cyclic. The only thing that would stop the cycle is if the off spring of one of the sons turned out to be female. In this case the mother would show the child how to use the toilet properly, or improperly because perhaps she also has had improper training.

This thought always comes to mind when ever I whiteness strange public bathroom behavior. With regards to our friend Tim Foster; Perhaps his dad taught him to complete all the odd routines before he could urinate or defecate. When we see/hear odd things in public washrooms form others, perhaps these things are completely normal to those people. I think this should be explored further. I propose, when we whiteness odd public washroom behavior, these people should be interviewed on the spot in the washroom when they come out of the stall and their responses recorded. Also, they should have their skulls measured, to see if we can find a correlation between odd bathroom behavior and bad genetics. Do you think we could get UPEI to sponsor a study on this subject?

Borked!

Yup. Something like that.

Some days you wake up. And then you realize you're still a technobo.
The massive bowel pains from god knows what that you ate the previous night are there as a simple confirmation of the fact.

But wait, there's a silver lining in this cloud. Or a warm underbelly in the mold. However you want to think of it... it's still there.

You are prepared for the shitslide.
When the shithawk flies down to pluck you off of the shitrope, you're ready.
Ready to cross whatever lines need to be crossed. Except the supermarket lines.
Scary things when people fight for fresh food. Where we come from, people fight for week old leftovers. To the death, even.

And, in case you were wondering, shopping carts aren't nearly as waterproof as you may think.
Neither is cardboard.

Brownie adventure delight (last night)

Story submitted by a fellow Technobo. The way he thinks and writes makes me laugh my ass off. ( names changed to protect the innocent )
*Warning - Explicit Language*

Yeah… So I ate 2 special brownies and went on about cleaning the house, doing laundry & vacuuming while listening to some music. I began to feel very aware of a strange feeling in my guttywots. I couldn't place it and want sure if it was a bad feeling or not. After a while longer, I realized what it was. Extreme hunger. I was so incredibly hungry it was almost making me sick. I went though the food I have around the house and discovered I have nothing, which even remotely resembled snack type food. I really didn't feel like making anything. Right then and there it was decided I would drive into town in search of some heavily salted chips. I was wearing an old pair of shorts and no shirt because I was just bumming around the house so the first order of business was to get some cloths on.

I grabbed a pair of track pants out of the dryer and a t-shirt and threw them on, put on my jacket and got in the car. Within the first 30 seconds of setting out on my quest for chips I began to notice a repetitive type sound as my little truck drove down the road. I sped up and slowed down and the sound changed. It had something to do with my wheels. I though to myself: "You've never noticed that sound before, your just stoned and over analyzing something that's not all that serious". I tried to forget about this faint, repetitive sound and popped in a CD. Listening to radio head I could still faintly hear this repetitive noise. I turned up the music and I could still hear the noise. I was about ¾ the way to town… This is when the paranoia set in…

I started to notice a shimmy in the steering wheel. I have never noticed this before so I kept telling myself: "There are no serious problems here, you have never noticed these things before. If they are happening now, they have been happening for a long, long time and obviously aren't serious. You're just really fucking stoned and thinking too much".

I tried to ignore the shimmy in the steering wheel and the noise but they weren't going away and appeared to be getting worse. I pulled over by the road to York and got out, looked at all 4 of my wheels gave my front tires a bit of a kick and checked all my wheel nuts. Everything is fine (Big surprise). I got back into the car and started off again, the sound and shimmy resumed. I pulled off the road again and into the parking lot at Mel's. I then somehow got the idea that one or all of my tires where perhaps out of round somehow. I slowly pulled out of the parking lot and drove along the shoulder for a min or 2 trying to see if I could feel the out of roundness of the wheels if I went slow and somehow pinpoint what wheel was causing the issues, no luck. I got out again and looked at my wheels and checked the tire treads with a flashlight to see if they where separating or something. I then realized that I am really fucking stoned and by the side of the road checking to see if my wheels are still round… That's going to sound perfectly reasonable being explained to a cop asking what I am doing.

I got back into my car and drove to the superstore. I got 3 bags of regular chips and went to the checkout. There was this mutant working the cash. I suddenly realized after she began ringing in my chips that I had forgot my debit card at home on the computer keyboard… I said "ahh cunt" out loud then realized I said it then said "shit" for saying cunt out loud when I meant to just think it. The mutant looked at me with the stink eye.

I began digging though my wallet and started counting out the massive amount of change I had in the change compartment. I was way too fucking stoned to count properly and it too me several tries and 2 instance of forgetting what I was doing while doing it to get this mutant enough quarters and loonies to pay for my shit. At the end I was .10 cents short. I even dropped a fucking dime and it rolled under the food belt thing. She wouldn't fucking help me out. 10 fucking cents. She took one of the bags of chips off my total and I had to recalculate what it too me so much time to calculate in the beginning. I handed her the fist full of change I had counted out and she fucking counts it again. I went to grab a bag for my shit and there aren't any fucking bags. I ask the mutant "any bags?" and she looks at me and says something like "mur murph nrah fo nortdah!" then pointed at the bag holder. I looked down where I aware to fucking god there where no bags 3 seconds earlier and there are so many bags there…I bagged my chips and started on the way out.

I passed the post office and this guy I work with, Brodie. His girlfriend is working there. I think she said "Hi Norgab!" but it sounded more like "Stor mo mah foran!" I smiled this ultra fake, fucked up looking grin and said something that didn't make any fucking sense at all about her boyfriend while continuing out.

I started the ride home and hit every single fucking red light. Meanwhile there was this random van behind me that wouldn't stop fucking following me. I got about half way home and it was still behind me. I turned down some random road to loose them (because they where making me paranoid), turn around then get back on the road. I am on the main road no more then 10 seconds and a fucking cop comes up behind me. I put the cruise control on so I won't fluctuate speed too much like a typical stoned driver. The fucking cop follows me about 95% of the way home then turns around and drives off in the other directions with his lights on.

Once I got back to my house I realize the track pants I had tossed on were on inside out with the pockets flapping like wings which I never fucking noticed the whole time (carried my wallet on my hand) and my jacket was inside out. I looked like a fucking member of Criss Cross. Fuck sakes. This was about 4 hours ago. I have gone though my 2 bags of chips and enjoyed them immensely. Now I am looking forward to the inevitable explosive diarrhea which always occurs after eating too many lays potato chips.