It’s Over, OnStar

Get out of my car. Get out of my life.

Get out of my car. Get out of my life.

OnStar is stalking me. Today, after a trip to Wal-Mart (don’t hassle me), the car phone rang again. Now, I know it’s those GPS bastards because no one knows my car phone number. This is the third time in two weeks they’ve called. I don’t answer, because I’m scared. Mostly scared that if they get me on the phone, the f-bomb will start flying and I can’t escape the confines of the car and the presence of my child.

I’ve never used OnStar. And I never use it because the voice recognition apparently thinks my accent is way too southern to be understood. It’s insulting.

Me: Dial.

OnStar: Please speak the number you’d like to call.

Me: Eight. Six. Four. Two.

Onstar: I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Please speak the number you’d like to call.

Me: Eight. Six. Four.

Onstar: I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Please sp—

Me: Arrrrgh.

Onstar: I’m sorry.

Me: Oh, I know you are.

Onstar: I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Please speak the number you’d like to call.

Me: Eightsixfourtwosevensix.

Onstar: I’m sorry. I didn’t—

Me: Fuck you.

Onstar: I’m sorry.

Me: Fuuuuuuuuuck. You.

Onstar: I’m sorry.

It’s not been a mutually beneficial relationship. Granted, it’s pretty useful for the GPS function, but I have a BlackBerry now. With GPS. I don’t need you, OnStar. So last month, I let my subscription expire. They’ve turned off my directional indicator, which is really too bad because I like to know whether I’m heading SSE or just SE.

When their fiendish directional scheme failed, they began with the letters. I’ve gotten three so far, each reminding me of the horrible things that can (and surely will) happen in my car. If I’m in a head-on collision, my cell phone will most likely fly through the windshield, along with most of my skull, and then I’ll die. Or, if my car flies off a bridge and into a river, my cell phone will malfunction, my cigarettes will be soaked, and then I’ll die. Or, if I get carjacked, the crack addict will steal my cell phone, make long-distance calls without my permission, and then I’ll die.

I hate them.

And it’s not enough to send me nasty, fear-inspiring letters. Now, they’re calling me. In my CAR. Where I can’t escape and I can’t hit, “ignore.” Almost everyday, they call. And the scariest part? They know where I am all the time. How freaky is that? They know when I’m in my car. They know I was at the Greer Wal-Mart. They know when I’m close to home. They know when I’m at the porn store. Nevermind. But big Brother is watching. His name is OnStar and he’s a colossal jerkoff.



Filed under Utterly Random

13 responses to “It’s Over, OnStar

  1. LOL! I don’t have that much of an accent. Southwestern, Pennsylvania, but I had that Dragon Naturally Speaking software. What a pain in the ass. It didn’t understand a word I was saying. It was more trouble than it was worth.

    I hate when I say my name is Dan and some people then call me Dean..WTF?

  2. Jonathan

    1) That is really freaky, I haven’t thought about that aspect of OnStar before.
    2) The porn store?
    3) Has a Google search (the *only* way to gather information) resulted in any solutions found by others experiencing the same problem?
    4) No, really? Sara Atwood. Porn. Where was this in middle and high school? I digress.
    5) Digressing…
    6) I’m with you on the BlackBerry thing. I use my Google maps feature incessantly. Like, my bathroom reading suddenly includes learning the details of West African geography.

    • sarafraser

      1. Yes. It’s bothersome. It’s creeptastic.
      2. Whatchu got against porn stores?
      3. I’ll investigate.
      4. I just didn’t talk about it then.
      5. Duuuuude.
      6. WIN.

  3. Onstar is a communist plot. So is ShamWow.

    • sarafraser

      Jed bought some ShamWows at the “As Seen on TV” store. They’ve been sitting on the microwave unused for like 2 months.

  4. Excellent blog Sara. I’ve subscribed so keep it up please. If you want to compare your humour with traditional British sarcasm and satire, I would be interested for you views on mine as I’ve only recently started.

    Good luck, and thanks for the laughs…

  5. Toot

    This is wonderful, Pudds. Why didn’t you yell at me to follow your blogs sooner? Oh, wait, right, you did. Fuck. K, well you’re great, I shall read on.

  6. Aimes

    While in line at Wal-Mart last night (yeah, I said it), I studied the ShamWow man’s face on the box of some As Seen On TV product (couldn’t say what, his face drew me in like that).

    The guy we met downtown, who drove us home and proceeded to stalk my front door step – was indeed that ShamWow guy. No question.

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