Monday, August 4, 2008

Welcome to the Ghetto

There's no crap car today as I decided to rant about ghetto areas. North Dartmouth is a pretty fucked place. For some reason I decided to go to KFC and order a ginormous amount of chicken from the rancid bird restaurant. I discovered they don't accept 100$ bills even if your bill comes to almost 50 bucks. Go figure. I was pretty confident I could get my 100$ bill changed at a local Tim Hortons so I decided to go there first (order two coffees, get change...).

What surprised me was two things:

1. When exiting my Subaru I noticed some chavs and you know - ghetto kids with crap Kias all around. One person remarked "Now that's a car I'd like to steal" when I exited my vehicle. I immediately locked the doors when I got into the Tim Hortons.Young punks with backwards baseball hats and an over-adorned KIA. Yeah.

2. People who work in North Dartmouth Tim Hortons can be idiots. I ordered two XL coffee's and proceeded to pay for them, using my genuine 100% canadian 100$ bill. The lady ran the bill under a UV light and proclaimed it was a fake. I'm sorry? I said. This must be a mistake. This bill was obtained from my bank on Saturday. It clearly had the reflective foil, water marks, and tiny removable dots. But clearly, the lady said it "must be a fake because I can see both serial numbers under the blue light". WTF?!?!?!?? I took my bill back and walked out.

Generally when people bring fake bills to stores the employees are supposed to call the police. I made a hasty exit and pulled into a hotel parking lot to chat with my wife. I went back to the KFC and paid in debit. I learned that:

1. KFC isn't worth shit.
2. I am never going back to that area ever again.

For those not familiar it's the Tim Hortons next to the McDonalds bridge. Prostitutes and drug dealers hang out around the local Tim Hortons.Sometimes you get the bikers which is a real treat, as they love to stare as you go throug the drive-through.

What is a Chav?

Emerging British subculture which is quickly becoming an epidemic. Chavs can be found the length and breadth of the country, hanging around any junk food outlet, off licence or just hanging around the streets, where they pass the time by vandalising property, drinking cheap cider, shouting abuse at passers by and terrorising old people.

Appearance: Chavs have a strict dress code. Designer labels are everything, although knocked off/fake items are almost de-rigeur. Typically, the male chav will wear a Nickelson or Schott hooded top, baggy tracksuit trousers, white designer trainers, and a baseball cap by burberry or Nike. The female chav (chavette) will have peroxide blonde hair scrunched so tight into a pony tail with colorful scrunchies that her forehead stretches. She will wear a dark blue tracksuit with white stripes, an enormous puffa jacket, hoop earrings, and white trainers. Female chavs are forbidden from wearing socks, and all chavs must wear as much fake gold jewelery as they can fit on their bodies. Mobiles are an added status symbol, and when equipped, the chav must shout into it in the most anti-social way possible, using at least one expletive and the word "innit" per second. Every other word in between should be unrecognizable to non-chavs.

Cars: Typically the Vauxhall Nova, but could include Ford Escort/Orion, Vauxhall Astra, and for chavs with "bling", even a totally shagged 3 series BMW. Whatever the type of car, it must have a spoiler shaped plank of MDF nailed to the back, 20" alloy wheels which rub on the wheel arches over every bump, a badly fitted bodykit (extra points for being able to see EXACTLY where the car ends and bodykit starts), a lairy paint job with runs in it, exhaust pipes the size of the space shuttle's booster nozzles, and blue LED's on the washer jets. Neon undercar lighting is also desirable.

Attitude: The chav's attitude depends heavily on the number of mates backing him up. If he's on his own, he'll skulk along anonymously. In numbers, he'll challenge anyone to anything.

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