To celebrate what I can only chalk up as PMS, today’s blog entry will feature several rants inspired by true events.
- Hey, moron! No, not you, the dumbass in the car next to you. He’s an absolute moron. You’re only a moron because you cut me off for no reason, but I’m sure that typically you’re a very astute driver. That guy doing 62 in the far left lane who’s on the phone and doesn’t have his headlights on in the pouring rain is an absolute moron. We all make stupid mistakes, thus empowering those around us to yell “moron!” at us in their cars. That doesn’t make us all absolute morons. That esteemed title is reserved for the jackass you work with who emails you requesting a file that you actually emailed to him earlier that morning. He also never wears a seatbelt. And drives in the fast lane no faster than three miles an hour over the speed limit downhill. This is the same guy on the phone — no ear piece, either — while he wobbles down the highway. He might be the same guy who doesn’t mind a lawsuit. He certainly doesn’t understand HTML coding, even though he insists on building tons of new product web pages because that’s how he likes to “think.” As if.
- Just because two highways merge does not mean that you have to immediately change lanes. The lanes are basically all the same, dude. Your sense of adventure and need for exploration won’t feel slighted if you don’t risk life and limb to sweep four lanes just to see what the new ones look like. The least you could do is put on your blinker and look before changing lanes. Asshat.
- My only sister. Does she really need a hand-knitted sweater for Christmas? Really. I could probably pick up a lovely navy sweater at Kohl’s for $20. It’s not like she gave birth to me, or anything. Just because she taught me everything I know about feminine hygiene, two-thirds of the curse words I’ve ever used and thinks I’m the funniest person on the planet doesn’t mean I have to bang my head against the wall after screwing up my first increase row and having to rip it out and start over, only to find that I knitted my marker into the sweater, rip it back again, then forget to increase on the second try. Last night, I just put it aside and calmly went into another room. Any more exposure to that fucking navy blue wool yarn would have resulted in a $50 bon fire in my den.
- Confidential to United States Secretary of the Treasury: Who do I have to blow to get the U.S. economy to pick up? Having friends and coworkers get laid off for no reason other than something silly like “the company can’t make payroll” is demoralizing and depressing. On behalf of just about everyone I know, I’d like that to stop. Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Wow. I feel better already. Next creative project on my horizon: Make more songs. I have tons of ideas, but my mp3 recordings of dialog sound like crap. I’m going to start begging people with more advanced technological equipment (i.e. Tivo and a Mac) to volunteer their services. I want more songs in time for Redneck Con!