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Help an old man out, you lot of cunts:

We were heading out for vacation last week... house alarm was counting down to activate, but I needed to get my pimp sunglasses out of the V so I grabbed Key Fob and pulled him away from his mid-morning siesta at his primary residence (Key Hook #1). Now, Key Hook #1 is a really nice place with an amazing full-frontage view of the mud room and washer/dryer combo - Key Fob has enjoyed the spacious accommodations and earned a solid 4-6% appreciation in property values each year of his ownership... going back to 2013. But anyway, as I walk with Key Fob out to the garage, I close the door to avoid having to reset the house alarm. The house alarm makes these really annoying beeps that increase in frequency to let you know when the ENDOFTHEFUCKINGWORLD is going to begin, God-forbid that fucking door is not completely closed, locked and secured within sixty seconds... but I digress.

So Key Fob and I are pulling the beach vacation stables out of my V: Pimp Sunglasses as previously mentioned, and the Redline radar detector - that's right, we're going National Lampoons Style in my wife's Lincoln Family Truckster: the Ecoboost V6 is surprisingly peppy for such a large, three-row brick of an "SUV on a car chassis," and with those three rows of seating and ample storage room in the boot I can be driving in comfort with my wife ignoring me in the passenger seat, my son bitching about something in the middle row and my daughter will still have plenty of room to get car-sick next to him - with enough room in the back for our luggage, a few six packs of craft beer for the first night and a few towels to clean up the inevitable vomit rockets my daughter is so expert at producing. 950 miles to go.

And now that I have my Pimp Sunglasses and my Redline Johnny-Law-Detector in hand, I close the door to my beloved V and wish her safe keepings for the week while I'm slumming it in my wife's Lincoln Family Truckster. God that thing is ugly. But plenty of room for vomit, as I said - and I'll add the Lincoln's radio is superior at drowning out my Son's whining than the V.

So the ENDOFTHEFUCKINGWORLD was averted because I closed the house door before the alarm set - but those beeps are so intimidating I didn't want to open the door, cancel the alarm and have to stress out AGAIN... just to help Key Fob back into his humble Key Hook #1 abode. Seriously, Key Fob is a lazy fucker, he's always piggy-backing me every time he gets out of the house.

So instead of pandering to him like the fucking Millenial that he aspires to be, I toss his black ass onto the workbench in the garage, right next to the house door. I figure I'll let him chill there for a few days to remind him who's boss. Except when I pulled my wife's Lincoln Family Truckster back into the two-car bay she needs to not actually hit anything, I realize Key Fob is gone. Dammit.

I've spent twelve hours scouring the garage work bench, floor, the toolbox of pain, everything - and no Key Fob. So, `ye cunts I ask:

where are my fucking keys?
 

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I checked the Family Truckster and no joy. All the drawers on the tool box. I checked the V just to make sure I didn't leave them there for some reason. I even checked the boots piled up next to the work bench.

Key Fob is a real dick.

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You didn't leave it on the workbench. You put it in your pocket when you were leaving and the stress of the alarm beeping made your memory unclear. When you arrived at your rental condo, you were even more stressed out from the long drive, the whining son, and intermittently dodging and cleaning vomit from the rear of the vehicle, so you immediately cracked into the six packs of craft beer. Late that night, after too many of those six packs, as you stumbled your way to the unfamiliar rental bedroom, you discovered the key in your pocket. Not wanting to lose it, you placed it safely in the top drawer of the bedside table. The temporary amnesia from the six packs caused you to forget that you put the key fob in that drawer, so there it sat all week, to be left behind when you drove home. The cleaning crew found the fob, but they're not making the kind of money that makes them give a shit about your key fob, so they tossed it out with the trash. Replacements are only like $350 from the dealer.
 

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Key fob is back in Florida picking out its new digs after reading your other thread.
 

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He knew you were trying to show him who was boss. He is retaliating and laughing at you. He is hiding in the garage. He knew he could bounce and slide to a nice hiding place you would never find him. He is watching you now, laughing at you.
slow down, retrace your steps and actually rush out the door again and toss another set of keys like you did that lil cunt and see where they end up.

Oh, just had another thought.....they aren't under one of the tires of the Lincoln are they?

Good luck!
 

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Discussion Starter #10
You didn't leave it on the workbench. You put it in your pocket when you were leaving and the stress of the alarm beeping made your memory unclear. When you arrived at your rental condo, you were even more stressed out from the long drive, the whining son, and intermittently dodging and cleaning vomit from the rear of the vehicle, so you immediately cracked into the six packs of craft beer. Late that night, after too many of those six packs, as you stumbled your way to the unfamiliar rental bedroom, you discovered the key in your pocket. Not wanting to lose it, you placed it safely in the top drawer of the bedside table. The temporary amnesia from the six packs caused you to forget that you put the key fob in that drawer, so there it sat all week, to be left behind when you drove home. The cleaning crew found the fob, but they're not making the kind of money that makes them give a shit about your key fob, so they tossed it out with the trash. Replacements are only like $350 from the dealer.
But I called the hotel and the english-second-language lady swears that if a key fob were turned in last week, she'd remember it.

So clearly I didn't drunkenly leave Key Fob to a horrible trash-compacting fate.

To hell with Key Fob - I'm going to let his sister, Spare Fob, play pocket pool with my nuts until he decides to show his ugly face. Mmmmm, hello Spare Fob! How you doin'?

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The sixer you had that night has made your memory foggy, you need to get hammered and your memory will come right back.
 
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Key fob ordered hookers and blow while you were gone, it's now somewhere in Mexico watch a donkey show.
That fucker... better check my credit cards!

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Random,

Do you have any of the little rodent critters in the garage that collect Shiny Objects? Not mice or normal farm rats. These have brown and white fur on them. Oh well, they call them Pack-Rats but No kidding! They collect keys and beer pull tops, metallic ribbons and all kinds of junk they find appealing.
Basically, they hoard! If that's the very Last place you had them, keep looking around that area or rearrange garage things
Well, good luck. It's annoying as hell to lose keys.
 
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Regardless, they will be the last place you look.
Not unless he finds it, but keeps looking to see if it had any offspring during it's time missing.

Speaking of FOBs, broke mine unloading tires. Wasn't great to begin with, but finished it off, key wouldn't lock in. New ones arrived yesterday, went to program only to discover my key doesn't work in the door. So guess the key I have was a used replacement at some point. So now I guess I need to get a key made at some point. For now, swapped the guts into the new case to have a working remote.
 

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I got it.. That bitch is in the laundry.. You never took it out of your pocket and left nut or right nut got soo comfortable with fob rubbing on it, you never knew to remove it from your pocket.. 4-6 beers in after the drive from hell, shorts got tossed with dirties.. passed out shortly after.?
 
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