Just for the record, I am firmly against people who drive like they're the only ones on the road, even when it's clear to the other eleventy-million drivers around them else that they are not. Those drivers who leave their common courtesy at home and replace it with selfishness, a willful disregard for the safety of other drivers and their passengers, and who inspire the more polite of us to mini-rages at their insensitivity are complete and utter wastes of skin, IMHO.
Why can't folks just chill the eff OUT and get there when they get there? What's the big friggin' RUSH, for Pete's sake? How is roaring up in a 'right turn only' lane then popping into the regular lane past 20+ cars that have been doing the correct thing making anyone except the douchecanoe in the BIG RED TRUCK that did the dirty deed anything but pissed off? If anyone knows the person who executed this maneuver on the way to the middle school this morning, or is actually the person driving the BIG RED TRUCK who succeeded in making me a say a naughty thing in front of my sweet and innocent almost-13-year-old Thing 2, then I'd like to know about it so I can track down the driver of THE BIG RED TRUCK and give them the bitterest piece of my rapidly-shrinking mind.
Buttmunch. Chaps-chafer. Self-involved asshat. Ignorant cuss. Small-packaged overcompensator. Jerk.
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So, hi! Now that I have that off my chest, what else is there to talk about? Read any good books lately? Seen any memorable films? Had any wordless exchanges with invisible objects that were particularly humor-inducing?
Eh, me neither. Most of my conversations with the ethereal beings are right out loud, because they're a little hard of hearing and like for us to speak up.
Honest!
Here's a little tip: It's easiest when dealing with this kind of talking-to-ghosts situation to pretend you're talking into a Bluetooth, because we all know that you can say all kinds of wacky crap while on a Bluetooth and people have to pretend like they can't hear you. Why, you could carry on about all manner of oddities and if you have that little Borg thing sticking out yo head, then nobody is going to call the cops or the local looney bin on you because you're talking with someone, right?
Just like the lady at the Kohls last weekend, who was yammering on and on about "bein' at the Kohl's" and 'oh don't they just have the cutest things here' and "I like this new frame I just got here at the Kohl's" and suchlike. Not hard to understand how her fellow shoppers would mistake her blatherings for a conversation starter, thus more than one of us responded to her with salient rejoinders, except that she wasn't talking to us! Nope - she was on the phone. Talking about important things. On her Bluetooth. To her son-in-law. Because it's clear that having a conversation with your SIL while on line at the Kohl's is the most important thing you could be doing right at that moment, except if maybe you could add in "confusing the hell out of the people on line with you" to the mix, and then of course she'd have hit the mark square on.
So there's that.
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One last thing: I love coriander. Tasty tasty!
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Bye.
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