Tips for stealing a car!

Ok, my plan was to write at least one blog a week about something just incredibly dumb. Well I had no inspiration. Not until this morning at least. I was reading CNN and came across a story about a car being stolen, while a police officer was being interviewed for a story. The man in question, Sean Gleason, was looking at a car he wanted to purchase. Instead, while cameras rolled just feet in front of him, he stole the car from the owner, and drove off, leading police on a chase. I'm sure he thought it was a good idea to steal the car right there and then. I mean, when else would be a good time. So, although I do not advocate theft of any kind, except maybe hotel towels, I have decided to provide you with a list of tips for stealing cars. Here's the list in no particular order:

• Make sure you have the correct tools. Slim Jim's, or just a hammer will work to enter the car. Also a screwdriver (won't tell you which kind) to crank the ignition
• Get away route. Most people who lead police in chases get so lost, they eventually just give up out of frustration. Buy a GPS, or at least steal one. I keep mine in the centre console of my car, along with my MP3 player, in case you are keeping track. As long as you follow the GPS soothing voice, you will be fine. But make sure you have the language set right. Don't set it to Swedish if you only speak Hindi.
• Look for cars at banks, 7 Elevens and video stores with the keys in them and the engine running. These are a lot easier to steal, and if there is a child in the backseat, bonus. Rich, infertile couples will pay a pretty penny to "adopt" your baby.
• Sporting events, movie theatres and shopping malls are great places to steal cars. People are in these places for hours at a time. Especially sporting events. If you listen to the game on the radio, wait till around half time, this will make you less visible.
• Steal cars that are in high demand. Lexus, Mercedes, BMW's. Leave the Yugo's. The owners want these stolen anyway. They want to claim the $20 from their insurance company. And come on, who would be seen dead in one of those.
• The second most important tip is this: Don't steal a car while in view of the cops. Now your probably asking why, but to be honest with you, ITS BECAUSE THEY WILL CATCH YOU. Don't steal a car from in front of the police station right after you have been bailed out for stealing cars either. They will figure out pretty quickly that it is you. The cops may be donut eating ticket writing machines, but they are pretty smart also.
  
• The most import tip though is DON'T DO IT YOU USELESS DOUCHE BAG. Pretty harsh I know. But there are other ways of getting a car. Like buying one. But, Fr Simon, how do I buy one, you may ask. Well here goes. They have these things called jobs. Now Jobs pay anywhere from $2.13 an hour plus tips for wait staff, to millions for athletes and corporate CEO's. I have a job that pays me somewhere between those 2 numbers, and have bought a car with my own hard earned money. It makes you feel a lot better about yourself, and less likely to become someones bitch in prison. And if you really want to be someones bitch, just post on Craigslist M4M forum. Someone will take you up on the offer.

So in conclusion, I think we have determined that people who are thieves are really pretty stupid, and will be caught pretty soon.

See the story that inspired this post:
http://www.azfamily.com/news/homepagetopstory/stories/Gilbert_local_news_032408_stolen-car.22da6d7b.html

Who is Father Simon, and why is he Super Priest?

Father Simon, Super Priest, is an ordained minister, and prowls the world looking for stupidity. Stupidity seems to follow Fr Simon. Sometimes he is out in the world on his own, incognito, other times you will see him with his sidekick KT, the Underaged Asian Wonder. Together, they mock stupidity while consuming beverages of intoxication. You will never see them coming, but you will feel them leave. If you were to see them on the street, you would think they were 2 normal people, but together in costume, they are legendary stupidity fighters. Fighting for the rights of normal people to peacefully exist. The posts you will read on this blog are from Fr Simon's stupidity fighting days. The ones below this post are just his ramblings, some on stupidity, some on his hatred of France.

Sins of the Father

So last night, I had a wedding to attend. For thoe of you who do not know, I am an ordained minister. Performing weddings is a side gig of mine, done mainly for the cake. So I got all tarted up, wearing my flashy suit and reverends collar and drove to the Adolphus Hotel. I married the couple, and then hung out and drank and ate with some people I had met at a wedding earlier on in the year.

So my bad influence, Kim, suggested that after I am done with the wedding, I should come join her and her entourage at some fine establishment. So like always, we trek up to the Londoner. Kim, her sister and her boyfriend were already enjoying themselves, and I walked into the bar. I got quite a few strange looks from people, particularly the bouncer. I think people were expecting a boy scout and the president to follow. So I walk in, and find Kim after navigating all the stares. I sit down at the table and order a Newxastle. I am convinced if Jesus were English he would have turned water into Newcastle, not wine. So anyway, I order my drink and Vi orders up shots, red headed sluts, and we drank those. The Newcastles flowed freely. Vi and her boyfriend left, and then Heather arrived. As we sat there chatting, some guys walked over and asked to take a picture with the reverend. Afterwards they asked to sit with us, top which the always alcoholic Kim responded, "Only if you buy Fr Simon a Newcastle." So they proceeded to purchase all 3 of us a pint, they sat down with us. Now not only have I never been to a bar in my collar, although I have drank in it at weddings before, I have also never been molested while wearing it. Heather likes nipples. She started to caress me behind Kim's back as our new friends watched on in horror. The Heather leaned over and took a good bite at my nipple. I am now permanently scarred on my nipple and I believe this is God's way of punishing me for drinking while being a holy man. After last call, Kim and I went to J's for some coffee with another friend, Chad. As we walked in I blessed the people eating shitty food, and was approached by a Greek Orthodox who asked me what something meant. I had no idea, and we walked on. While we were sitting at our table, it came to me. The shocker. 2 in the pink, 1 in the stink. I walked back to his table but alas he was gone. So we had so much fun last night, I think next week I am donning the collar and Kim, Heather and I are going to a topless bar. We will be struck by lightning then.



Kim's Take:



A priest, a blonde, and Kim walk into a bar
Current mood: crazy

My Favorite Brit, Simon, is an ordained minister (non-denominational) and actually officiates weddings from time to time. So last week, he told me that he was marrying a couple on Saturday and was wondering what we were doing that night. So immediately we told him we were drinking with him in his holy garb.

So, as USUAL my sis, Lalo, and I ended up at our favorite smelly pub, the Londoner. We began drinking and an hour later, in walks Simon with his fashionable priest look. Black shirt, white reverend collar, black suit. Very sporty and dapper...and religious looking. We immediately got him a beer and proceeded to try and get Reverend Simon smashed. Which wasn't going to be hard since he had already imbibed the "holy wine" at the wedding. He told us that the bouncer seemed shocked to see him at the door. All through the night Simon would get double takes and curious looks from the other bar patrons. My friend Heather (trouble-maker) arrived twenty minutes later. After a few beers, three guys approached and asked to take a picture of our Holy Man. So all four of them gathered around with beers in hand and had their pictures taken with Reverend Simon. Then they asked if they could sit with us. I told them they could sit with us under one condition- they buy Father Simon a beer. So they bought us a round. So while we were enjoying our hard earned beers Heather decided to molest the Father and actually BIT him on the nipple. The dudes at our table were flabbergasted.

Father Simon managed to get us free beer, was a dude magnet, and got his nipple bitten- all in one night. He told me for the free beer alone - it was worth wearing the minister suit every Saturday. Ahhhh, good times to be had. Next time I shall remember the camera! (Doh!)



And Heather's take:


Number 1 reason I am going to Hell
Current mood: Angelic
Category: Angelic Religion and Philosophy

At some point last Saturday night I fled the evil confines of Uptown, habitat of the Dallas Douchbag Clan, to seek solace at a good bar with my friend Kim and her friend, the devout Reverend Simon.

Reverend Simon is a real Reverend – he's ordained (non-denominational) and has married over 100 couples. This guy can also knock back the beers like a college frat boy, although unlike a frat boy, he's English, he can hold his liquor, and he's has a great sense of humor. Prior to meeting Reverend Simon a few weeks ago, the last Reverend I'd had an encounter with was a steamroller by the name of Reverend Red Haze. That steamroller was one evil bastard. So, whenever I'm in the goodly Reverend Simon's company, I tend to keep one eye on him. He might carry a bible, but so do Catholic Priests, and I really don't need to comment further than that.

Anyway, by the time I arrived, Kim and the pious Reverend were stuck into the booze. Simon was wearing his black priest garb, complete with the white collar, as he had just come from marrying a couple. This seemed to intimidate most of the patrons, as no one would come near our table. I guess bar patrons see a priest in a pub and think they are going to hell faster than normal if a man of the cloth spots them drinking booze, smoking, or chasing tail. It's like they think the Reverend is going to send a text message to god that says, "hey, man. Don't let this cat in - you should have seen the shit he was getting up to 12/02/07 at the Londoner Pub at 12:05 a.m. Check out YouTube."

Despite the fear factor, three guys approached Simon and asked if they can take a picture with them, which is pretty funny in itself. Kim wisely suggests that they can - if they buy us a drink. Nicely done Kim. So we get a free pint and the young lads join us. We all chat and laugh. I pass my flask of single malt whiskey to Friar Simon a few times, and we sipped on the peaty goodness that is Taliskar. During this time, Simon became "Father Simon" and the Father Ted and Father Jack references began to come out, "Feck, Shit, Arse!" It was also around this time that Kim and I go to the bathroom, and I show her the fabulous duct tape bra I was wearing. Yes, I was drunk, but in my defense, Kim is pretty hot, and Father Jack is a really funny character.

Anyway, the next thing I know, the good Reverend asked me to feel his nipples. As Kim was sitting between us, I had to reach around her back to get to him. Once I found the nipple and gave it good rub, a demon began to speak inside my head, and it told me to bite Father Simon. I guess that's what happens when you drink Newcastle and Scotch: you become processed by a malignant, nipple-biting, archfiend of Satan. So I bit him, pretty hard too. In all seriousness though, how many times will I get to bite a priest's nipple? I had to do it. It's gotta be good luck, like rubbing the budda's belly. Plus I was curious; what does a priest tastes like anyway – wine and wafers? Newcastle and cigarettes? No, he just tasted like cloth, and I did not burst into flames.

It was soon after this that the 3 guys vacated the table – pretty quick. They must have figured that if I'd bit a priest, I'd bite them as well. Go figure. Most people don't receive nipple biting in a positive light. If they did, they would be freaks, and I'm talking like "Freaks of the Industry" type of freaks, like nipple-clamp types of freaks. Yikes.

So much for an innocent night of drinking with my friend and the reverend. Should I feel remorse for biting Father Simon? Nahhh. I'll just by him a pint at the topless bar that Kim is taking us to next weekend. All three of us are going to hell regardless of what we do now, so I suppose I should really earn it.

My Alcoholism

So this last week a friend of mine accused me of promoting her alcoholism. She stated, and I quote "Most Likely to Encourage my Dangerous, Drunken Escapades." Now, although I have been known to imbibe every once in a while, I have never been accused of causing someone such distress. I am usually the sane, soberish one. I have had occasions of mad drunkenness, but they are few and far between. I generally end up being the designated driver. So when I was accused of this crime, I recoiled in horror. But then after being given this great honour, I proceeded to meet with the aforementioned friend at our local watering hole, and forced 4 Irish car bombs down her throat. Thats right 4. Now she had already been drinking other beverages, so with the car bombs and however many Ace Pear Ciders she imbibed, she got mighty ill, and at our 3rd stop of the night, she decided she wanted to expel the alcohol, and most of the contents of the stomach. Afterwards she felt fine, and called me to go out drinking with her again, although she had learned her lesson, and wouldn't let me force her to drink anymore car bombs. So my friend, I want to apologize for putting you through all that agony, and as penance, I am joining Alcoholics Anonymous. My first meeting is Monday night, and maybe afterwards we can both go to the Flying Saucer for $2.50 pint night, and celebrate my new found sobriety.

Totally 80's

So this weekend we had a totally 80's weekend. And as most parties at the grotto they require a costume. So what did I dress as you may ask. Well it started off as a joke, but became reallity. I went to the thrift store and felt like a pervert. Then on Saturday I shave my face completely bald, and now I am having missing limb syndrome for my goatee. It feels weird. Then Jenny gave me a make over. Guess which one of these are me!
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Why I hate the French

Nobody likes the French, but most people don't know why. Well, being English, I am bred to hate them. They are vial, and snobby, particularly the Parisites. So last week the Daily Telegraph told me why, and here are the reasons:

1. Because they're losers
Rugby matches played by England against France since 1906: 89. We've won 47; they've won 35. Draws: 7...>..>..>..>

	Loser: France's captain, Raphael Ibanez

2. Because they're aggressive
Wars fought against France since 1066: 35. We've won 23; they've won 11. Mutual defeats: 1 (American War of Independence).

3. Because of Napoleon
200 French streets, monuments and institutions commemorate the era of Napoleon, the inventor of totalitarian dictatorship.

4. And because of the Napoleon Complex
While Napoleon was actually 5ft 6.5in tall, his aggression may have stemmed from "strikingly small, infantile and undersized genitals", as revealed in his autopsy. The organ in question measured 1.25in.

5. Because they make love more than anyone else
On average, that's 137 times a year; we only manage 119 times.

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6. Because everyone believes they're great lovers
But when asked about Napoleon's love-making, French good-time girl Marguerite Josephine Weimer remarked that the Duke of Wellington was "beaucoup le plus fort". Today, just 23 per cent of French people are happy with their sex lives compared to 25 per cent of Brits.

7. Because they love yappy dogs
More than nine per cent of French dog owners have a poodle.

8. But they won't clean up after them
French dog owners refuse to pick up the 5,840 tonnes of dog-doo dropped on their streets each year.

9. Because they're allergic to customer service
In London eateries, it takes an average 3.4 minutes to get a glass of water once a waiter has been alerted; in Paris it takes 17.9 minutes.

10. Because they're rude
The "Paris Syndrome" is a medically recognised type of depression which afflicts foreign visitors, caused by the sustained rudeness of French people to outsiders.

11. Because they can't wait
Many French men still prefer the convenience of a trottoir to the public WC.

12. Because they lack humour
Before the Revolution, the French spoke of l'esprit (wit), or la farce (joke) but the word "humour" had no equivalent. Not until 1932 did the French Academy allow l'humour into the language.

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	Yappy: a quite ridiculous French poodle

13. Because we've been allowed to believe that French women don't get fat
Current diet books claim that French women are thin because they eat only fresh produce, and slowly. However, French obesity rates are exploding and one in four French women is on some kind of mood-altering medication. Of course they're not hungry – they're stoned.

14. Because they do things the wrong way
The French take more suppositories than the rest of Europe combined. In 2006, they shoved 235 tonnes of pharmaceuticals up themselves. That's equivalent to 1,850 Gérard Depardieus (approx.).

15. That goes for their wildlife, too
In 1998 alone, 25 million geese and ducks were force-fed in battery farms to make foie gras: the €20 hors d'oeuvre.

16. Because they love Jerry
In 1963, Jerry Lewis's The Nutty Professor was voted "Best Film" in France. Le Roi du Crazy, as Lewis is known over there, holds the Legion of Honour, traditionally awarded only to victorious French generals: pretty rare.

17. And they hate Gerry
In 2005, national treasure Gérard Depardieu announced he was leaving France because: "Only the British understand me… They have a great sense of humour. It is the French who are cretins".

18. Because they think their cooking is the best in the world
They boasted 26 three-starred restaurants in the 2005 Michelin Guide. However, the guide is a French institution. Could that be why the UK had only three? Coincidence, non?

19. Because of their incessant wining
Does France still make the best wine? Not if you go by the infamous Paris Wine Tasting of 1976, when an English wine merchant organised a "blind" tasting before a jury of French experts. To their horror, they rated Californian wines as winners in both the red and white wine categories. The French press first denied any tasting had happened, then claimed the results were fixed.

20. You can't trust their wine labels either
In one 2002 case, a Burgundian vintner got jailed for rebottling 4,000 hectolitres of Algerian plonk as a much more expensive Bordeaux.

21. Because they took the cow pat… and turned it into a hat
Well, that's what the beret is, isn't it?

22. Because their legendary "Va Va Voom" is a lie
They only spend an average 19.2 minutes on foreplay. The British take 22.5 minutes.

23. Because 50 per cent of them don't even associate sex with pleasure
And 23 per cent say they would be "relieved" not to have sex for several months.

24. Because they patented the kiss
In fact, there is no actual word for "French Kiss" in French. It is simply embrasser avec la langue (literally, to kiss with the tongue). Colloquially it is referred to as rouler une pelle (to roll the spade). Only in Quebec is it "frencher".

25. Because they're big bullies
The French shoot, poison, trap, crush, stuff and then eat almost anything smaller than themselves. Box-nets are laid down across the Aquitaine countryside to trap skylarks, while Languedoc hunters blast turtledoves out of the sky.

26. Because the French health service is the best in the world
However, during a 2003 heat wave, the French health services, rated as a "world best" by the WHO, failed to prevent the deaths of 16,300 elderly people.

27. Because their country doesn't work
Employers have to pay social security taxes equal to 48 per cent of each employee's salary, so they take on fewer people, and France's unemployment rate has hovered around 10 per cent for a decade.

28. Because they get up our noses
Forty per cent of French men, and 25 per cent of women, do not change their underwear daily – and only 47 per cent bathe every day (compared to 70 per cent of the British).

29. Because they invented Sadism
France is not only the birthplace of the Marquis de Sade but also of Renault's flirty series of Ben and Sophie "Eiffel Tower v Blackpool Tower" TV ads. Talk about torture…

30. Because it's taken them a thousand years to admit we're better than them
"The standard of life of the British is higher than that of the French," said M. le President Nicolas Sarkozy, in his 2006 autobiography. Finally.

If I turn up dead..........

Look at my cats. I have a feeling they are plotting against me. I can see it in their eyes. When I walk in my house they immediately start to trip me up. Getting between my legs, both at the same time. They always say that it is bad luck if a black cat crosses your path, I have two of them. While I sleep, they attack me. I wake up with scratches all over my body. Thay bite me, shed all over me. I fear for my live. I've also been seeing some strange charges on my credit card. Catnip.com, cattoys.com, kittyporn.com. What should I do? I fear for my life. I called the police and tried to get a restraining order, but I have been laughed out of the court. I don't know where I have gone wrong. I feed them when they need food, pet them when they want it, clean their litter box when it is full. I take them to the vets to get shots and check ups. Do they not like their food? It looks tasty as far as pet food goes. Should I start making them tuna and chicken, and eat the cat food myself? I have just removed them from my will, and changed the beneficiary on my life insurance policy. If they ever learn how to fire a gun, I am in trouble. But I must go, because they are watching me. I don't want them to know that I know about the plot. If they get me, avenge my death, AVENGE IT........