An automobile driven by a cunt. Usually dented, dinged and scratched due to the driver's habit of simultaneously caking makeup over her ugly, gabbing on the cellphone, trying to find a station playing her favorite top-40 pop song, sipping an extra large double foam half-caf caramel iced latte with 4 Splendas, and beating her fatherless whelps in the back seat, instead of paying attention to traffic. A cuntmobile's engine noise typifies neglect of regular oil changes and tuneups, and the brakes tend to squeal at every stop as few cunts understand the importance of changing pads (brake or otherwise).
"Jesus Joey, wasn't your neighbor's car new a month ago? it's all dinged and scratched already" "Yeah, last month it was a new automobile, now it's a broken-in cuntmobile."
A vehicle adorned with multiple bumper stickers that feature political, activist, or other cause-related messaging; esp. those which are ostentatiously self-righteous
I was stuck in traffic behind a real causemobile on the way to work today. Funny enough though, the experience did nothing to change my stance on abortion.
A Shackteau is a humble, weather-beaten, structurally questionable shelter located in a spectacular or highly coveted place—Wales, Jackson Hole, Sun Valley, Crested Butte, coastal Maine, the Alps—where the building itself may be worth almost nothing, but the dirt, view, access, and mythology make it absurdly valuable.
In use:
Shackteâu - We thought it was an abandoned shed until the realtor called it a rare alpine Shackteâu with unobstructed views and listed it for $2million.