This was a new one, even to me...

Well amigos, I never thought the Universe would grant me such entertainment, but it did. Forget all the stories you've heard about idiot convenience store robbers who leave their wallets behind. Forget about people who hang-glide. Personally, I can even forget about the 5 truly bewildering months I had former Dallas Cowboys' Quarterback Quincy "Good With Football, Bad With Everything Else" Carter as a student in one on my classes back at UGA. Nope, none of that compares to the dude I saw on my way home from the tennis courts the other night. He is a dude that will forever rest in my mind as the dumbest motherf***er I have ever seen.

As I approached the red light at the intersection of Clairmont and Scott Blvd, I moved into the right lane so as not to end up behind the El Camino that was idling in the left lane. I had my windows down and as I got closer, I noticed that I could hear Julio Iglesias blaring from said El Camino. Now, I know Julio Iglesais. I mean, I don't know Julio personally, but I used to travel around with Erik Estrada (that Erik Estrada) and he spent a lot of time raping my car stereo with Julio, Ruben Blades, Selena, etc, so I'm not just saying this for effect. It was Julio. And it was f***ing loud. In fact, once I got directly beside the Camino, I could have sworn Julio was riding bitch with me. I was about to freak at this dude in true Gripe Guy style for playing that sh*t so f***ing loud, when, what to my wondering eyes appeared, but a giant f***ing a**hole sitting there in his driver's seat oblivious to everything - EVEN JULIO - because he had a set of headphones on that were plugged into an i-Pod mounted on his dash. And I don't mean ear buds. I mean the kind those guys at the airport wear to protect their ears. Can you say sock full of burro dung? I sure as f*** can.

Now look, I'm not going to go the cheap laughs route here...sure, it was an El Camino and sure, he was playing Julio and all, but that ain't what this is about. It's about how I tried everything to get his attention. Blaring my horn. Yelling. Flashing my lights. Whatever, nothing worked. So, naturally...I turned right and got the f*** away from that crazy guy as fast as possible. The Gripe Guy ain't eatin' it to the tune of Julio Iglesias, I don't care how many chicks he's gotten into the sack with that velvety voice of his.

Headphones and a maxed car stereo? Damn!