People are annoying the hell out of me today. I think on the way to work it was Donuts for Dumbasses — whoever got there first got ’em free or something. The stupidest people in the world were driving in front of me today. I’m sorry. I’m mad that a truck flung a rock at my flawless windshield yesterday. There is not one synchronized light in my city. We also use turn signals in unconventional ways here. You only turn the signal on if you have no intention whatsoever of turning. Except for our advanced drivers. They brake suddenly, begin making their turn, and then turn on the blinker. Oh, they do some of the other stuff, too. The traditional stuff. Slowing down to review a fender-bender for possible carnage. Driving 20 mph in the left lane while eating an Egg McMuffin. Oh, and the smokers. Sorry, I’m not one — and I’m pretty tolerant of them overall (just keep it outta my space) — but if you are a stupid driver AND you have a cigarette? It’s all because you’re a smoker. Especially the classy broads that hang the cigarette halfway outta their mouths while doing something incredibly stupid. It’s the cigarette. I can’t help it. I’ll bet they couldn’t diagram a sentence if they had to. Yeah. It’s a sentence ending in a preposition — got a problem?

It’s pretty funny that I am such a driving snob now, considering my humble beginnings. I guess my first problem was that my mom taught me to drive. Well she, God rest her soul, was the worst driver EVER. But she tried to teach me the basics. So every Sunday after church she’d let me drive around empty parking lots to get a feel for it. One Sunday in particular stands out. Seems I was just cruising around the parking lot, free as you please. The parking lot was empty save for one telephone pole smack dab in the middle. And I was headed straight for it. At about 30 mph. My mom is screaming, “the brakes, honey, the brakes,” and I’m screaming, “I am, I am [braking]!” As we got dangerously near the pole, I realized yes, I was hitting the brakes — with my left foot. My right foot was planted firmly on the accelerator — flooring it. My best friend at the time happened to be in the car, and can I tell you? She never let me live that down. To this day. I don’t call her much. I passed my driving test later that year, because my dad knew the instructor.

I guess if I can improve, anyone can. Now get outta my way.

Advertisements