Quote of the Week

I realize I've fallen behind on my quotes, and while this is actually from a couple of weeks back, I feel it's necessary to include here. This one goes to miss Brit G:

"I can't keep up with these door guys. They come and go like...like they're Charlie Sheen's hookers or something..."

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And the Father of the Year Award Goes to - Mr. Minivan

So I’m driving down the freeway today and a minivan (without using his blinker) cuts me off and continues into the exit lane.  Since I’m having a great day thus far, it only mildly irritates me.  I continue to drive, when the same minivan, at the end of the exit lane, decides he doesn’t want to actually take that exit, and crosses the solid white line, the exit median, (my term for the V-shaped patch of pavement at the end of exits) and the other solid white line, and swings out back in front of me, again not using his blinker light.  He gets back into the fast lane.  At this point I’m more than slightly irritated with him, but I continue to drive anyway, RE-setting my cruise control from when I had to slam on my breaks the second time he cut me off. 

About three cars up, Mr. Minivan decides the fast lane isn’t moving fast enough for him and starts to weave in and out of traffic (which actually, as traffic karma would have it, makes him lose his place and fall right back beside me).  Apparently he’s more than mildly irritated that the cars around him aren’t going 90 mph down the freeway, because he’s paying more attention to trying to get around said cars than he is to the fact that his ACTUAL exit is coming up.  Lucky for me (sarcasm) his exit is also the one that I happen to be taking.  So I slide into the exit lane and continue on. 

Realizing that he’s missing his exit, he AGAIN cuts across the exit median and instead of slowing down and falling in behind me, tries to speed up and cut me off, AGAIN without his blinker.  I’m beyond annoyed at this point, because there’s no way he can actually get in front of my without me pushing my brake pedal to the floor.  But does he slow down? Of course not, he tries to side-swipe me and “push” me onto the shoulder.  So I gun it. Sorry minivan, my Challenger will outrun you any day of the week.  Since I’m now in a particularly nasty mood, I slow down to the 40 mph exit speed limit. 

Mr. Minivan is about two feet from the back of my car.  I’m about ready to slam on my brakes (I would never actually do something like that) when I see something odd in my rear view mirror.  There is a car seat in the front seat of his minivan. Yes kids, that’s right, the front seat, where babies are NOT supposed to go because of, oh I don’t know the chance of the air bag decapitating them.  We reach the bottom of the exit and before I can exit, he AGAIN crosses the solid white line and cuts me off (from behind) as he drives away at speeds in excess of 90 mph with his infant in the front seat, once again, not using his blinker as he weaves in and out of traffic.  Are you starting to see a trend here?

I will let you get away with just about anything, as long as you use your blinker light. If you just have the decency to just give a simple flick of the wrist (it takes less than a second) I will slow down and let you over, every time.  If you don’t use your blinker light, I don’t know what you want. I am NOT a mind reader people.  My car is not Ms. Cleo.  I can’t broadcast your stupid thoughts through my AM radio.  Slowing down and doing the “hover technique” is NOT signaling me that you want over; it’s just pissing me off. 

Blinker lights and tailgating, two of my biggest pet peeves, and Mr. Minivan has, in 10 minutes, already taken my absolutely wonderful mood and turned me into a street banshee, muttering words under my breath that are only suitable for mature audiences.  When you don’t use your blinker and attempt to cut me off, and I DON’T slam on my brakes to let you in front of me, and instead speed up to avoid you smashing into the side of me, you get angry with me and tailgate me.  What I really want to do at this point is get in front of you and immediately slam on my brakes.  Then, when you’re forced to get out of the car and exchange insurance information with me because you’re a giant, impatient moron, I want to take your head and smash out BOTH of your blinker lights with your face, because I should at least be getting SOME sort of value out of them. 

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I've Got the "Too Many Questions from my Sales Representative" Blues

I apologize if you find this offensive.  Actually, what am I saying?  I really could care less if you find this offensive.  Mainly because IF you find this offensive it probably means that you’re one of the people I’m talking about, in which case, I despise you and all who are like you. 

People who have a credit card for EVERY establishment known to man. 

How much credit do you think you need? You can use a normal credit card just about everywhere, so why do you think you need a store specific credit card?  Your normal VISA just isn’t cutting it?  You go to Victoria’s Secret SO much that you need a special pink credit card?  Chances are that if you have to use a Victoria’s Secret credit card, you shouldn’t be buying anything anyway.  So put the triple push-up miraculous bra down, step away from the counter and be your normal flat-chested self until you can afford to pay for your “upgrade”. 

What’s worse than the clothing store credit cards?  Credit cards for fast food restaurants.  Really people?  You eat a Big Mac so often that you need a McDonalds credit card?  Even if you don’t have cash on you, (which many of us seldom do these days) then pull out your good old MasterCard and run it for the $5 it costs for your cheeseburger. I'm standing in line behind you and I have to add an additional 10 minutes to my purchase time because YOU have to sift through the 18 credit cards in your wallet before finding the little red one with the golden arches.   

What irritates me even more is when I’m trying to check out, and the sales person is asking me 800 different questions. I saw the sign posted right above the t-shirt that I picked out that clearly stated buy one get one half off.  If I wanted another t-shirt, it would be on the counter right about now.  I understand that if I spend $5 more I can get a card for $10 off my next purchase. The banner at the front of the store as I walked in already informed me.  Chances are, since I’m an able-bodied person who clearly knows at least the basic principles of addition and subtraction I understand that the t-shirt that I bought is not going to add up to the $30 I have to spend to accomplish this.  I don’t need you to tell me about it again.  I don’t want to hear your 10 minute spiel about a rewards system and credit card that I don’t want or need.  I just want you to bag up my items, tell me the price and accept my payment.  I don’t want to fill out 18 different forms and give you my home phone number and email address just so you can sell it to your partner companies and they can barrage me with calls and emails about products that I could care less about.  The once a month 10% discount that HAS to be used on a specific day by a certain time is not worth the effort I have to put into sifting through my inbox just to find the emails from people that I actually want to hear from.

So no, Brittni with an “i”, I don’t want to be enrolled in your rewards system.  Furthermore, I don’t give one gram of fuck that I could be saving 5% off of my purchase today by signing up for your ridiculous credit card. You’ve just wasted 5% of my life by asking me all of these stupid questions!! 

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My Advice to the Queen of Cross Walks

Let’s start the day off right shall we?  I’ll start by letting you in on a little secret.  I despise the holidays.  You may be shocked that someone as “cheerful” as I could dislike the holidays, but it’s true.  Believe it.  So the closer it gets to December, the antsier I get.  I get easily irritated, my tolerance for stupidity drops drastically, and my patience is next to nil. 

So I’m driving to work this morning and there is a girl who starts walking across the cross walk (on a ‘don’t walk’ sign might I add).  I stop a good 4 feet from the edge of the cross walk (that’s about normal distance I assume) and this chick stops dead in her tracks, right in front of my car, turns to face me and yells at my car “This IS a cross walk you know. Yield to pedestrians!!”

I very calmly pointed my arm out the window gesturing toward the “Don’t Walk” sign, (a sign that actually has the words “Don’t Walk” not just the picture) and, as politely as I could, yelled back at the moron “Your Fat ASS isn’t splattered all over the pavement is it? That’s called yielding! Next time you should attempt the whole reading and comprehending process.” Then I very calmly drove away.

Here's my advice to you Cross Walk Queen: First, conquer the illiteracy. Second, conquer the attitude. Finally, attempt to conquer the stupidity.  If you fail, you can always walk out in front of more traffic, though next time, I suggest a busy interstate...at night...wearing all black.

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