Hamonica Boy Strikes Again. FML

So, today I got a ride back from break with everyone's favorite harmonica-playing asshole. Why? Because I enjoy torture and I know how much you all enjoyed our last adventure. Sorry folks, never again. NEVER. "Why?" You ask concernedly, knowing full well that I'm going to tell you. Well let me tell you. Car ride begins, around four with the usual uncertianty about a time frame followed by a phone call giving me a roughly ten minute heads up. Which I am used to by now and was fully ready and packed, stuff by the door, don't worry. Then, I get the oh-so-joyous news that we are gaining a passenger on our jubillent ride-one, John, tech ed guy 'soft spoken and like a hippie' whose girl friend is 'ugly,' 'redneck' and 'has him whipped, don't tell him I said that.' Folks, I can't make this shit up. So we journey and extra hour-oh yes, the fun is extended for three hours rather than the usual wonderful two. I get to be navigator because he dosn't know where he's going and forgot his glasses. But he's doing it, so between the two of us (John and I) he can make a profit and buy beer. Now, if that doesn't give you an idea of the classy kind of guy he is then I don't know what will. But I digress. Here we are navigating through Burks county, him smokin' like a fucking chimmney as he questions me about the partys at school and recounts his own drinking/smoking exploits. We're also jammin out (no harmonica yet, but later) to some Elvis-Costello, not Presley. This small snippit is a exerpt of our limited conversation:

"Now we're gonna listen to some Elvisssss-"
"-Oh, cool. Love Elvis-"
"-Costelloooooo."
"Oh....I don't really know his stuff..."
"Yeah, I like him cause he sings songs about killing girls."
"Oh. I feel like this is the part where I should make a run for it..."
"Yeaaahhh....let's take a drive into the woooods huh???"

I think you can guess who said what. So we get to John's house, where we wait as HB has to get out and check out the 'forge' that John has in his garage and HB talks about how he can hook John up with some cheap propane. WTF? Anyway, HB needs his coffee and proceeds to curse out the town for not having a Starbucks and we end up at the good ol' golden arches. HB orders two double cheeseburgers (yes, people, that's FOUR burgers. Which, I don't know if you know this, but it's MURDER on the bowels....) and tries to order an extra shot of expresso....IN HIS MCDONALS COFFEE. Which confuses the guy taking his order.  HB then continues to play the role of just general asshole customer, inching up a little too far at the window...hitting on the cashier chick, etc. He then asks for them to throw away his Red Bull can, which they can't do? (company policy apperently?) so, when she closes the window, he throws the can at the window and hauls ass out of there. Oh, and he also takes this oppurtunity to share with us that he was once arrested for throwing a hamburger AT A KID. 'But the charges were dropped. Assault with a hamburger weapon. HA.'

CLASSY.

So we continue along on our merry trek, a mere hour has passed, and here we are with HB and his incessent farting, John and his fucking bird? Yes. I said bird, as in he is traveling with a bird in a covered cage on his lap. Which HB at one point says he hopes the bird dies so his car will be haunted by an animal spirit. And there's me. Who by this point is sending HELP ME texts to like everyone. I almost sent one to my own mother. Oh, and he's also calling me "spads" (as in, rhymes with 'fads') because I'm pretty sure he forgot my name while introducing me to John and so he called me by my last name, which he then shortened to "spads." As follows:

"Spads...yeah."
"No, you don't actually call me that...that didn't happen. And isn't. You can call me Spade. That's acceptable."
"Nah, that's like dark. Spades are a symbol of death....(which, has some truth to it, I googled it...)"
"Ummm...or they're a shovel."
"Or they're something you use on your dog."

Silence ensued. For a good while. So, as is usual when silence ensues, he plays with the radio. Among other songs, we listened to 'the penis song' about having a large penis which chases away sadness, the pokemon theme song, and snoop dogg superimposed over kirby. Also featured, Asian rock. Including the song from the Wii comercials. By hour two I'm ready to throw myself from the car. The next hour is pretty similar, I'll leave it at that. Oh, and the harmonica is back too, the same riff over and over and over to every song. WONDERFUL. And you know the best way to appreciate harmonica? With a migrane being choked to death via secondhand smoke. It's soooo much better that way!

Long story short, his parting remark (right before moaning "moooooooooooooooooooooooooneyyyyy." at me as soon as he put the car in park) was this (as I argued women could drive dispite the fact they weren't in NASCAR-which isn't actually driving....any child who can turn a wheel can do that) was this:

"So, I was talking to a girl in a bar the other night and she was like 'yeah I'm majoring in sociology and like feminism or feminists or whatever-"
"Gender studies"
"-yeah. And I was like 'Oh, so you're majoring in being a bitch.'"