Cheerleader Road (of death) Trip

Cackle! The Pansy Wimmin (Pansy and Baby Pansy) were going to San Jose for a cheer competition WITHOUT supervision! Oh, joy! First a visit to Mapquest and then they Roar Off in their rockin' 1972 Dodge Charger (no hemi, dammit). They leave at O-dark-thirty for the 9am start of the competition but begin to suspect things aren't as they should be when they drive by cattle feedlot after cattle feedlot with all the lovely ambience and odors involved. This don't look nothin' like them Fancy Freeways Californee is All Famous About?!! They drive on anyway since there is no way in hell Pansy can possibly figure out how to get onto better roads. She's just grateful that she appears to be heading westish. And she barely knows that and ONLY with the help of Baby Pansy who says "Mom! Everyone knows the sun comes up in the east. Geeez." Potty mouthed bitch said "Geeez!" Mama Pansy don't allow no swearing from her fucking little smart-ass daughters but she didn't smack the little shit up side her haid since Pansy also don't want bruises to mar the photos.

The Pansy Wimmin drive and drive and drive. They turn onto "San Antonio Road." An hour later they understand that they are very likely in actual fact headed for San Antonio, TEXAS. In a blue haze of swearing, Pansy whips the Dodge Charger around and peels out...almost taking out a minivan full of other lost cheer moms and their weeping cheerleaders. We confab in the road awhile and, naturally, Pansy takes control of the situation. We caravan to a lone bedraggled looking mini-market kinda place and walk inside. The owner/counterclerk/whatever is a full-on FOREIGNER. Very nice but absolutely not one word of English in his repertoire. Literally. I look around for a map to buy. No such luck. Then the situation goes south.

Into the store walks the most gawdawful, hideous, creepy looking, skinny, chain smoking, filthy, stinking, white trailer trash, at least 85% tattooed (because he did not take off his pants although we all know that was going to be on the menu eventually), stained wifebeater wearing, cheerleader mom raping (and then the cheerleaders too), murdering, shallow grave digging, dirtbag pedophile Pansy has ever seen. And believe me, she has not only seen a lot of them she has dated most of them, too.

He is totally Every Frankenstein in Every Nightmare (EFEN) of every mother everywhere on earth. EFEN [for the Stupid Impaired: F*IN as in FUCKING] Creep discerns the dilemma of all these wimmin wearing dark denim pantsuits decorated with glued-on sequins, "jewels", beads and metallic decorative appliques (the official Cheer Mom uniform), surrounded by their glitter-spackled, hairspray shellacked, made up like 12 year old whores Cheerleaders.

He asks "whose rockin' Charger is that?" Oh no no no no no nooooooooo!?!? Pansy is going to be his First Victim! She tries to shove a couple of the Other Cheerleaders forward as appetizers but NOoOOOoooOOOO....the goddam, back-stabbing, selfish, hairy (on their heads, don't know about their "personal patch" areas), old whores all point to Pansy and scream "It's hers!" And then they try to make a run for it out the front door.

Where they are brought to a very abrupt halt by......the 18 BARKING PIT BULL DOGS F*in owns and has brought with him in his filty, beat to shit, used to be white but now is mostly rust, cracked windows everywhere, bumpers long gone, pickup truck, that has shovels(!) in the bed and a rifle rack with 2 rifles in the cab. The 18 Barking Pit Bull Dogs are literally: on top of the truck cab; inside the truck cab; in the truck bed; on the sidewalk beside the truck; at the front door of the mini-market; and NOW the damn other hags have let a couple of the dogs into the store!

F*in laughs, has a long coughing spell with LOTS of sputum (a word Pansy despises more than the prospect of going on a "date" with F*in), laughs some more and yells at the dogs "Now git on back inter the truck, y'all" (which makes Pansy wonder yet again perhaps she actually did drive all the way to San Antonio, Texas). And then F*in has another long wet hacking coughing session. Finally he spits out a big wad of chew and says: "Y'all wantin to be goin to the high school for that there cheer contest what just started up a few minutes ago?"

HOW IN FUCK DOES HE KNOW ANY OF THIS? I mean, sure, he can tell we are a bunch of cheer people but dear lord he knows way too much so now we know he really IS our nightmare come to life and in Living Color. Mostly red blood running in the bed of his pickup truck and our soon to be occupied shallow graves.

He proceeds to tell ME, the obvious Boss and Person In Charge, all about how to get to the high school. All up close and personal if you know what I mean. Which high school we are miles from and Mapquest is now being added to Pansy's list of Taking You Out With Her. And then.......HE LETS US GO! We run like crazy wimmin, clutching our children to our heaving bosoms but then we stop that since Heaving Bosoms will definitely kindle F*in's baser interests. We get in our cars and burn rubber like rubber has never been burned before.

Because now we are all late and Baby Pansy's group is up first. I get through a traffic light that turns red for the minivan behind me so they squeal to a dangerous sideways stop. Baby Pansy and I see them ALL (moms and girls) throw their hands up in total despair because all is lost for them. Pansy knows to just pull over and wait for the traffic light to go back to green and so she does. The minivan comes roaring through the intersection, Pansy peels out and we continue driving like crazed cheer moms for the high school.

We arrive and leap out while simultaneously grabbing our supplies of: more glitter, more hairspray, more whore makeup, and backup supplies of extra glitter, extra hairspray, Lots of Extra whore makeup. Baby Pansy's group has just finished warming up and when they see her they all scream and cry and so now us Pissed Off/Stressed Out Cheer Moms have to trowel Much More of their whorey makeup onto their tear-stained faces as well as shovel more glitter/hairspray all over their pin-on, fake, over the top, 80's style, rilly curly ponytails. They do their routine pretty well and make the first cut.

Now we all get to do the Most Important Part of any cheer competition: stand around for hours and hours, bored out of our gourds, pretending to cheer and care about and be all "we are just here for the fun and camaraderie" with the skank competition bitches. They know and we know that all any of us wants is to pound The Others into the ground with OUR way hot pyramids, scorpions, arabesques, tumbling routines, synchronized standing toe touches into a backflip immediately into forward flips, and SMILE GIRLS SMILE. Plus, everybody knows all those Other Cheating Cunts use filler bodies for their lame-ass tumbling runs. That means they have "ringer tumblers" who cannot cheer or do pyramid stunts or contribute in any meaningful way whatsoever except to fill the performance mats with glitz and shouts until they are up for their tumbling runs. They are sooooo fake. And they are all built like hairy draft horses.

It is all over. We finished third (out of 4) so naturally we get a HUGE ASS trophy, ribbons for all, little trophies for all, and diabetic comas from all the sugary junk foods we have been devouring. The Other Cheer Moms (never Pansy!) ate so much they busted out the seams in their Official Cheer Mom dark denim pantsuit uniforms. We scrape off most of the glitter and makeup from our exhausted little Cheer Whores and everyone changes into comfortable traveling clothes.

Pansy and Baby Pansy stagger out to their rockin' Dodge Charger. Which will not start. No matter what. Because when they started out this day it was dark and Pansy left the headlights on all day long. Groan. Everyone is gone. I don't know how THAT happened, but it is true. Everyone is gone, it is getting DARK and whooooo drives up? Oh, yes, you do so know who! F*in and his 18 barking Pit Bull dogs! Shit, shit, shit, shit!

He says "well, well, well! Lookie here! That rockin' Dodge Charger agin!" And proceeds to charge up the fucking dead rockin' Dodge Charger. Which took ForEver since F*in's truck is like some hideous 4-cylinder thing. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves what kind of Pansy "small talk" she had to make with F*in for the 22 minutes this Charging Up the Dodge Charger took. And the Pansy Wimmin Roar Off into the night! Pansy thinks she really should have way more properly thanked F*in but frankly she just wanted to get away alive and without germs/diseases.

It is now dark, we have basically the entire long drive still ahead of us and we are starving. So we go to a drive-through Jack in the Box because I totally am afraid of turning off the rockin' Charger since it will die on us. And while we are in the driveup line some employee is out there taking a survey of customers. She asks Pansy questions! And Pansy is totally really ready to answer questions, too!

"Why are you here?"
Pansy: Because we really love Jack in the Box food!
"Where do you live?"
Pansy: Sacramento.
"And you are here in San Jose for what reason?"
Pansy: To eat at THIS particular Jack in the Box. It's our Favorite One!
"Really."
Pansy: Yes!
"Where are you going after this meal?"
Pansy: Straight back to Sacramento. We only come here for this Jack in the Box!
"Really."
Pansy: We do this about once a month!
"Really."

Pansy has to try to get her little jollies where she can. Now we are really ready to hit the road. But at the very last possible second, because At Long Last Finally God decides to fucking look out for us, Pansy observes the gas tank guage is on Empty. Who knows how long? Maybe since Sacramento at O-dark-thirty. She pulls into a gas station and realizes she is still afraid of turning off the car because it won't start again. She asks the 3 toothless Inbred Cousins O' F*in:

Do you have jumper cables in case my car won't start again?
Uhhh...nope.

Great. So Pansy decides she will just leave the car running while she fills up the tank. She asks:

Will the place explode if I keep the car running while I fill up?
Uhhh...dunno.

And they ease back to the far side of the gas station. This is quite confidence-inspiring but Pansy pretty much doesn't care by this point. She goes back to take off the gas cap and discovers........that sabotaging, evil, paranoid, son of a total bitch, bastard, cocksucker Mr. Pansy has put a locking gas cap on the car! And the KEY to the locking gas cap is on.........Pansy's chain ring that is in the car ignition and cannot be turned off because then for sure now the car will not start again.

Pansy begins the sweat-inducing, nerve-wracking, hand-trembling, bomb-dismantling process of removing the gas cap key from the key ring without turning off the car. Which takes her so long she is almost catatonic from stress over worry that she took so long to get the gas cap key that the car undoubtedly will just plain run out of gas, stall on her, and then Really never start again.

Baby Pansy actually gets worried until Pansy assures her: "This is what credit cards are for. If I have to, I will buy a new battery. We can also call a tow truck. (That was a lie because Pansy is positive that F*in would have shown up as the tow truck driver!) Hell, darling. Mommy might just go buy a car over there (Hummer dealership). That'll teach dad to fuck us up like this."

The gas cap key is liberated, I fill up the tank, and the Pansy Wimmin Roar Off. Headed home at long last. This time, though, they are going home on those Fancy Freeways Californee is All Famous About. This is working like gangbusters until they get to a toll bridge. Pansy never has cash on her. What little cash she did have this day was long gone on buying:

Important Cheer Clothing Accessories (sweatshirt that says "If Cheerleading Was Any Easier They Would Call It Football")

Cheer Jewelry (earrings shaped like megaphones)

Cheer Stickers (Honk If You're Cheerful!) and etc.

So the Pigs at the Rip Off Toll Station (what exactly about FREEways do they not fucking understand?) make Pansy fill out a huge form and give her an envelope and a copy of the form. To mail the toll fee........yes, the $2 damn toll fee!!!! The paperwork and envelope alone had to have cost more than $2! This exchange of information/supplies makes the huge and growing huger line of cars behind Pansy's rockin' Dodge Charger VERY CHEERFUL. Pansy knows they were Cheerful because they were honking and honking and honking. It was nice to have new Cheer friends.

We drive on. And on. And on. Where are we? Why is this taking so long? Pansy will never know but finally the Pansy Wimmin arrive back in Sacramento. To the demanding Mr. Pansy who wanted to know what took us so long. We were only 3 hours later than he expected us. He evidently is also completely as fucked up as Pansy is about MATH because he had not added in Pansy At The Wheel Exponential Expansion of the Known Universe factors. Then he wanted to know why Pansy was in such a godawful bitch mood.

He made Pansy earn the toll fee. The hard, 200 times in a row way. He even called Sweet Pansy a cocksucker! The prick.