From the mind of...

I hate driving. Like hate it more than I hate not being able to eat grilled hot dogs in the summer. Because people suck on the road. And I mean suck like piss me off to the point that I pray for a red light so I can get out of my van and verbally attack them like a crazy person. I don’t know -what is worse – old people that cut me off and then stay in front of me for like 5,285,949 miles consistently doing 5 miles BELOW the speed limit because, GOD FORBID, they should actually drive the speed limit in fear of their 1989 Chrysler New Yorker with 31,000 miles on it might implode….OR…..people that pick a speed and stay there. Whether it’s 30mph or 55mph. So I am either on their ass looking for the right moment to pass or far enough behind that I think there is enough distance so that I won’t catch up anytime soon, but then get caught up in scenario A again.

And conversely, I also hate the assmunch morons who want to do 10 mph OVER the speed limit, but rather than pass me so they can get to their cow fucking convention or their $0.99 cheeseburger special at the Rodeo Corral, will ride my ass in an attempt to get ME to go faster. What they fail to realize is that I will purposely drive slow as a mo fo just to piss them off. I need the bumper sticker that says “If you are going to ride my ass, at least pull my hair first” or “If you are going to be up my ass that far, you better be wearing a condom”.

I am pretty sure this is a main reason I got married again. Not because I didn’t learn the first time around that marriage was for suckas and fools, but because I need someone to drive my Ms. Daisy ass around. I would rather be caned with a leather strap filled with nails than drive out here. And if it isn’t a slow poking senior citizen or a speed demon 20-something year old with a hard on, it’s friggin farm equipment. I get stuck behind more tractors, seeders, harvesters and idiots on John Deere riding lawn mowers than anyone I know. I don’t even know what some of these contraptions are. They look like Transformers. I keep expecting them to break down and convert into an SUV or a Porsche as I pass them. That would surely be more than meets the eye. (If you got that reference and laughed, I love you!).

Just give me a clear road ahead of me, the sun on my face, and good music on the radio and I am a happy girl. I will make a deal with you, moron drivers of WNY, if you stay out of my way and don’t piss me off, I won’t have to follow you home, chop you into little pieces, mix you with protein powder, and eat your for dinner. Because murder is my least favorite thing to do. Plus it screws up my manicure.