Driving Hell

Driving scares the crap outta me. And not because I don't have a license yet. People that are out on the roads today are completely insane. We've got old folks that can't stay in their lane, we've got young folks on cellphones, we've got truckers nodding off with the occasional road-rage retard that comes after you if you don't make your turn the millisecond that the way is clear. It's enough to give any sane person a heart attack. I've been out on many different roads but the main theme that goes through my head is that everyone treats driving like a single guy treats doing the dishes: it's fine to cut corners as long as you get most of the egg salad off the fork (or something like that).
Driving the way you're meant to drive isn't difficult. You signal your turn, wait until it's your time to go and then make your turn. Simple. I love people that can sit there and lecture me on proper dining room etiquette but can't drive home without nearly killing half the drivers on the road. I think I'm alright at driving but my excuse is that I haven't been doing it for very long. I would like to imagine a utopia where people too stupid to follow the rules of the road are disintegrated on the spot and you can drive through the cloud of stupid that tried to make a left without signaling. But why stop there? Why not just have a place where you have to be able to read and write to get a driver's license? In my state, all you need is to guess at 20 questions and someone will hand you a permit to drive. I wouldn't mind if I had to write an essay for that one. It would eliminate the young idiot drivers and the illegal immigrants that haven't bothered to learn the official language of my fine country. But it's not their fault so much as the jerks giving out permits and licenses like they were Easter candies.
Maybe I'm just bitter. Maybe I'm right. But going out onto those roads seems like a war-zone at best and a calculated method of suicide at worst. Be careful out there, people. And fear not; the disintegration ray is nearly ready.

Important news!

Boobies.

That is all.

Weekend!

So! It's a lovely Friday here in AnyTown, USA! Everyone is rarin' to get to their weekend activities early so they can clog up traffic by 6 PM. I think I'll enjoy a rare evening of sitting by my faithful dog and lighting my toes on fire! It's got to be better then risking a more serious injury like stubbing your toe falling off the sidewalk while avoiding that crazed, knife-wielding maniac with women's underwear on his head. Or spraining your wrist while you fend off hungry sharks in your rapidly sinking vessel.
On the other hand it might be a really good weekend. Maybe you have drunken sex with someone you don't know AND you didn't contract that new super-virus that liquefies your lungs. Certainly a win-win situation if ever there was one. But at the end of your weekend or more accurately on Sunday, you start thinking about how much time you have left to enjoy and it's just not enough. You can already see the goons you work with leering at you and asking inane questions: "How was YOUR weekend? Do anything fun?!" And the truth of the matter is that up until that very moment your weekend was fine but Monday has occurred and you're back to grinding your teeth when you have to ask your co-worker to kindly move out of the way so you can get to your sweeping.
Well it's not time for that just yet. Thankfully you have the full weekend to look forward to. And if you see me, don't make fun of the underwear on my head.

Vent

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!
Grrrrrrrrr...
FU*K!
AAAAAAAAAAH!
Tweeeeeeeeeet!!!
Blam! BLAM BLAM BLAM!
Ugh!
koff, koff.
...ssssssssssssss...
grumble, grumble

Phantasms of Sarcasm

Sarcastic @$$holes run my world. I can't stand their smug looks and their condescending attitudes. They like putting you down and they enjoy their work. But your hero is not without his bag of tricks. I use the mighty axe of knowledge coupled with the shield of humilty to combat these nefarious jerk-bags. Well more like the shiv of reverse-sarcasm and the broken bottle of show-them-for-the-stupid-and-inconsiderate-fruitpops-they-are +7. Sarcasm is great when used correctly but like all things, too much of a good shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth (i think that's the saying anyway).
The best thing in the world is to laugh at work. Especially when everyone else is having a miserable time or having problems staying awake. Nothing brightens my day more then being able to laugh knowing that the others don't have a clue at the hilarity happening right under their noses. It's the only way to combat the sarcastic douche-poofs when they get to tearing me down. Well that's only if I forget the truncheon hidden under my keyboard.
Max Bastard out.

How not to be crazy

I think I've figured out how not to be crazy. No not really. If I knew that I wouldn't be crazy anymore. Being crazy is very time consuming and leaves one without much reward. Letting the brain ruminate on the same thing all day can't possibly be healthy or productive and yet the brain somehow doesn't care. I have these bouts of either asking my brain what to do or calling my brain a moron. There's no winning involved and I wind up where I started: Nowhere.
I have some thoughts as to why my brain tortures me with information and expectations. I don't think it was my brain to begin with. Ok, I know that sounds crazy but let me explain. What if my brain was really my Siamese twin brothers brain? What if he was all but reabsorbed in the womb only to surface years later to drive guilt and doubt into me like a railroad spike? I've never heard it cackle maniacally but that's only because that would confirm my suspicions. Never mind my evil brain.
What about my heart? I think they are in cahoots. But I don't think it belongs to a twin brother. I believe that was transplanted in just before puberty. I don't know when or how but it just doesn't seem normal sometimes. Why else would I tear up at movies that are barely sad? One might think I'm less of a man but then again one can stick it where the sun don't shine.
My heart and my brain can both eat the big one for all I care. I can't trust them not to screw me up from day to day. I'm going to have to band together with the rest of my body parts to combat this evil conflagration from hell. I can see it now: My lungs and stomach leading the fight while the kidneys and colon back them up as calvary. There will be much headaches and running to the bathroom but I am confident that when the smoke clears, I'll have full control of my brain and heart. It's a good thing they don't know what I'm doing otherwsie ti wulod eb ipmosisbel ot tpye.

Catching the vapors

Boy! It's been a while hasn't it! I could have been dead or something. But I'm not dead. I'm words on a screen. I'm electric pulses coursing through your monitor. I'm sub-conscious remarks whispered in the back alleys of your brain. I am a warm blueberry muffin. I think I might be high as well.
But fear not, gentle reader, for I have news from the front-lines:
I don't care Spitzer is a douche and neither should you. Here's why:
* If you didn't expect that from him then you are to blame for his actions as much as he is.
I mean the fact that everybody made a big deal about him jogging in the rain when he was first brought in should tell you that he MUST be hiding something. Whatever. The Giants won and the Patriots lost. Um... Britney is insane or something. I dunno. I try to keep up with useless news but there's just so much of it out there.
So what's goin' on with you, reader? Everything coming up roses in your microcosm? Work going ok? All 7 kids taken care of? Your feet washed? That's good. I'm glad it's working out. I'd hate to think about you failing miserably in life. It can be pretty hard.
Life's been really weird lately for everyone, including yours truly. Sorting it all out is a full-time job in and of itself. So in the interest of getting it all sorted I've decided to be a little proactive with it. I'm currently trying to find an apartment so if you have any openings in the Horsehead Nebula and don't mind pets, let me know.