Friday, August 26, 2011

Second Helpings

Hi Kittens! I am traveling today so here's a second helping of Driving Ms.Crazy! I thought this would especially be worth a re-read with all of the fucktarded back to school drivers on the road! I'll be back tomorrow with the Weekly Wrap Up!


I don't know about your city but my city requires driving. To go to work, grocery shopping, eat out or get a cold beer- there is a commute involved. Austin is just not designed to skip out of your front door and go buy groceries and a bottle of wine at the corner store. Whatever you want is usually at  least 15 minutes one way but most times more. The only good news about our infrastructure is we don't have to do the walk of shame home. We have the drive of shame and if you happen to have a tall truck with tinted windows- no one on the road needs to know you are a dirty whore. It's rude to stare anyway in Texas. We will talk to the neighbor about your slutty ass arriving home at 7:30 AM in yesterday's clothes, though. At least put your shoes on before you try to sneak into your front door...I said you were a dirty whore not a Democrat. 

With all of this driving and several hundred of me on the road mixed with barely legal 16 year olds, monster truck driving rednecks and yuppies in gerbil powered Smart Cars- you can imagine the possibility of a road rage freak out is pretty high. Especially if you happen to be in my truck. With me. You wouldn't see what I see because you would be crouched down in the passenger side making deals with God to be a better person and adopt 100 retarded pit bull puppies if he would only let you live long enough to get out of my truck- or at least let you escape with your sanity. So I will tell you what you would see if you didn't have to worry about crapping yourself and maybe possibly passing out in my passenger seat.

Just for perspective. This is Austin traffic on a good day.
It's a good day because there is actually space between the cars.

Please pay attention to the road and not your newspaper, book, cell phone, video game, gay ass Nook, brat kids, vibrator or your food. Rule number one of driving, after you make sure last night's happy hour is long gone , is to check your mirrors. See that giant SUV that could scoop you up and use you as a hood ornament with the raged out blonde lady that looks like she is cussing at you in sign language? That's me. Put down the fucking newspaper, pay attention, put your foot on the long skinny pedal on the right and move your ass out my way. That's a green light in front of you and that means "go" in most countries. If you wanna read, take your ass to the library or back to school. If you can't read, well, then  get  off of the road because there are words on giant green signs all over the place giving directions to your dumb ass but you probably don't know that because you're always busy making an omelet or reviewing your E Harmony matches in the front seat.

Signs actually mean something. They are giving you directions to keep your stupid self alive. Read them. Shit- you really don't even have to be able read , come to think of it. If it's red, stop. If it's yellow , slow your roll and look around then proceed with caution. If it's green then stop fucking around with your radio and move your sorry ass or I will honk loudly at you and maybe take off your bumper then snap a picture and blog about the fucktard I just scared the piss out of.

Cyclist on the road are begging to get ran over. I hate that we actually hear about this but we do- and often. I am not bitching about motorcycles...because they have engines and are probably the most cautious drivers on the road because so many car drivers don't look for them. I am talking about the dumbasses riding their ten-speeds on the freeway. This is never a good idea and I don't care if your name is Lance Armstrong or you're wearing a jersey for a team you're not on. We are driving 70+ MPH and trying not to get run over by semis. Your spandex man panties and foam filled brain bucket is no match for a one ton pick up that has just been ass rammed by a semi and is now doing cart wheels in your general direction.  You also shouldn't pedal your ass on two lane barely paved country roads either. We can't see you in time to slow down and I especially hate it when my side mirrors graze your head and then you flip me off and then I have to pull over and explain a basic law of Physics to you. You know the one that says two objects can not occupy the same space at the same time. And maybe the one that says I am bigger, faster and have four wheels so move the hell off of the road. Not sure which one that is but I am sure you can all see the brilliance in it. If a 747 was landing on the road in front of your house- would you just keep mowing the grass? No- you would quickly move your ass away. Far away. Same thing when a Ford 350 is tail gating you. Move.To.The. Shoulder.Quickly. Seriously- some of those cyclist slow down on purpose and play chicken with speeding bullet cars. Really? Hope you think it's worth it when you're digging my axle out of your ass.

Ladies, Cover Girl hates you and so does EMS.  The quickest way for you to meet a cute fireman is to apply your make up, curl your hair (no thanks to butane powered curling irons) or paint your nails while you are piloting your car down the highway. No fucking way are you paying attention to me, the road or the concrete barrier in front of you if you are busy trying to color in the lines of your lips or nail beds. When your car hits me or the bridge and then spirals out of control into a traffic wrecking ball of screaming WTF's- eventually you will stop and you will regain consciousness. Maybe. In the meantime- the hot firemen will arrive at the scene first- were they will all stare in disbelief trying to figure out how to free your right nipple from being pinned to your dashboard by your mascara wand.  Then the EMS people will show up to scrape what's left of your bloody ass off of the pavement but not before they snap your picture to share on their super secret EMS Face Book wall of dumbasses that killed themselves in a car wreck because they couldn't get their bitch asses out of bed 10 minutes earlier to do their make up at home. Bet you don't feel pretty anymore. Wake your ass up in time to get fabulous or wait until you are safely out of striking my truck distance- like in your work parking lot- before you decide to get glam. Otherwise I will personally make it my mission to pimp check your stupid ugly self after we get out of our cars so I can get your insurance information and alert the State that their idiot escaped from the useless dumbass institution.

Don't do this. Ever.

(Sorry for the Democrat just sounded funny. Texas loves tree huggers, too. Sorta.)

No comments:

Post a Comment