ROTFLMAO !!!!

Rayke, one of my daughter's friends, posted this on his site. It is one of the funniest things I ever read.

Enjoy.

http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=Rayke

Anyways, instead of boring you will long details from all three days of my bullshit weekend...I'll instead share boring long details from what may have been the highlight of my bullshit weekend...

So, here's the story...
I was hanging out with Adam on Friday. And he needed to go pick up his brothers car (a sweet looking Mini Cooper)...Anyways, to make a very long story short, he had to drive me out to his brothers apartment and give me keys to the Mini so that I could drive it back to his house.
I hope that came across as coherant...

His brother lives in a super-rich, hardcore, gated apartment complex. As the gate opened, an attendant guy walked out and talked with Adam. He told him what was going on, and the attendant said he needed to see my ID in order to let me take the car...to verify that I indeed had a drivers license. We agreed to do it on my way out.

So he drove me about two minutes through the "neighborhood", droped me off, and left.

Think of Patches neighborhood, but with huge apartments and a good amount of long, two lane, streets. And a gate attendant.

The car is nice. Very nice.

So, as I'm sitting in the car and getting comfortable (setting the radio station to the Sports Animal, adjusting my seat and mirrors), I find myself with my hands full. I am still sitting in my parking space, checking out the car, and getting out my driver's license to present to the gate attendant. I am nothing if not efficient.

I still have my driver's license in hand, but I don't want it to impede my driving, for I am a responsible, caring, loving, diligent driver of automotive products.

So, I look for a safe, accessible place to put my license for the 200 yard drive to the exit gate.

Maybe there, in the little cubby hole under the radio?

No, that's too hard to reach. I may throw out my back trying to bend that extra 5 degrees.

Maybe there, in the armrest storage area?

Nonono, that won't do. That would involve lifting and, again, the likelihood of severe spinal trauma.

Maybe there, in that little slot above the radio.

Hmmm, right in arms reach, perfect height, no risk of paralysis. It is ideal.

Sure, that little slot is normally for a CD and not, technically, a driver’s license, but I’m just gonna slip it in a quarter of an inch (a line I used a lot in high school), so that it's readily available for me to hand to the attendant. I am brilliantly resourceful.

Except…

The moment I place the license in the slot, some kind of industrial-grade, electromagnetic clamping system grasps the card from my hand and a Briggs and Stratton turbine-powered motor inhales it into the CD player.

This is not good.

I just sit there staring at the CD player for a moment, unable to believe that I had actually manged to stick my fucking drivers license into the CD player slot.

And then I do what any right-thinking person would do: I begin to stab at the eject button like a crazed maniac.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, COME ON, DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!!!!!!

At this point, the next logical step (in case it ever happens to you) is to punch the steering wheel repeatedly, as hard and fast as you can, chanting your personal mantra of peace. My mantra, of course, is "SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!!!".

I tried everything. I waited for a second, acting nonchalant, whistling to myself and then BAM! I hit the eject button.

The sneak attack was unsuccessful. I tried sticking other foreign objects into the player, in an attempt to pry the license from its nest. No avail. I made an effort to coax it out with soft, kind words and promises of my undying love and devotion. Not happening.

I couldn’t leave the apartment parking lot, because I didn’t have a driver’s license. Not in my immediate possession, at least. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone or ask for help. I was already beginning to imagine the crowd of people surrounding the car, asking questions.

"This moron did what now?"

"Tell me again, why exactly is the license in the CD player?"

"Are you the stupidest person ever?"

I was in a cold sweat as I was having visions of spending the night in this parking lot, because I’d tried everything I could think of to get that license.

I decided to calm down and approach this from a logical point of view. I must think like a CD player. I must know what it knows, feel what it feels and love what it loves. I needed to become a CD player.

I opened my mouth and inserted my flat hand as I made a "Hrrmmmmmmmmmvvvvvtt" noise.

Yes…yes…I could…sense...that the CD player and I were...becoming as one. Kindred.

And I knew what must be done.

I must give the CD player what it most desires.

A ritual sacrifice.

I pulled a burned CD from Adam's brothers' CD wallet...and prepared to insert it into the player, briefly thinking of what the gate attendant would say if I tried to tell him what happened. He would no doubt say, "So you jammed a license in there and then you tried to shove a CD in too? Did ya try to stick your dick in at any point, ya pervert?".

I hesitated. I didn’t really feel like trying to get a CD and a license out, but I was at my wit’s end.
In it went.

I pressed eject.

Out came the CD with the license on top.

The CD Gods had been appeased.

This may be the single most asinine thing I have ever done. But, in my defense, I did solve the problem myself.

I just hope nobody ever finds out about it.

[Cough]