This rant contains foul language. A lot. You’ve been warned.
It took me 2 hours and 20 minutes to drive to work this morning. I found out later that there was an accident on Long Island Expressway around Exit 49, and I was stuck somewhere between Exit 51 and 50. When I finally made my way out to Exit 50, this jerk in a beat-up Honda, who was driving on the shoulder trying get to the exit faster, kept poking his nose out in front of me as if HE had the right of way!!! Nobody, as far as I know, has ever accused me of being a wimpy driver. Indignant beyond reason at that point, I started talking to myself. Well, actually, I was talking to that dickhead, but he didn’t hear me, obviously.
I tell you right fucking here right fucking now, you bitch! I am NOT, I repeat, NOT a sissy weekend fucking driver who gets scared fuck to drive on fucking L.I.E. during rush hour. I’ve just been sitting the fuck here for almost a fucking hour, and then stop and go at 0.000001 fucking mile per hour for another fucking hour. I’m already an hour fucking late for work and I’m not even half the fucking way there. And my left fucking sole burns like crazy fuck because I drive a fucking stick-shift. Oh, and by the fucking way, have you ever seen a fucking accident scene where a Jeep fucking Wrangler and an itty fucking bitty Japanese car were involved? Have you? Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
Yup, I beat him to wallow in his shame of having been defeated by a girl, and felt mighty proud to have finally made use out of that Dirty Harry line. Take that, bitch!
Yes, you in the blue Chrysler Town & Country with the license plate that says “CLST MKR” inside the plate frame that says “Closets N More”.
You with two stickers on your rear windshield, one of a picture of a Schnauzer, another of the New York Yankees’ interlocking NY logo.
Yes, you, who were driving on the westbound Long Island Expressway this RAINY morning during rush hour on the leftmost lane, conversing with your friend on the next lane through the open windows, who by the way, squeezed dangerously in and out of the lanes with no regards to other drivers just to flag you down.
Yes, you. You are a fucking idiot. Please share this message with your friend.
I usually don’t remember dreams after I’m fully awake except a few and some recurring dreams. One of those recurring dreams is one where I’m driving, and I suddenly realize I’m sitting in the seat behind the driver’s seat. Somehow I manage to drive from that seat without a problem until the time I realize that I’m sitting in the backseat and that I can’t possibly drive from that position, in which point I also somehow can’t reach the steering wheel. Then I try to go over to the front, sometimes I succeed in doing so and take control of the car, and other times I just keep struggling to get to the front until I wake up or somehow I dream about something else.
I took an hour nap today since I was so miserably tired and sleepy (still very much sleep deprived), and I again dreamed this dream. I was driving with Brandy and Foster, and when I realized that I was in the backseat, I was holding Brandy the way I hold her after each meal, and Foster was in the front, moving around to and fro driver’s side and passenger’s side. And somehow all these people were suddenly walking on the highway as if they were out in a park or something, and I almost mowed down some people a few times, but they went out of the way. This time, I succeeded in going over to the driver’s seat, and started driving, hoping that there isn’t anybody I mowed down without me realizing it. And I woke up.
Anybody know how to interpret dreams?
I accomplished everything I set out to do today, a very rare occasion for me. Took today off from work, woke up early (note the term “early” is relative) and left for the city at 8:21am. Spent about 20 minutes talking to my lawyer and his secretary (after waiting 25 minutes). Had an hour lunch with a friend and spent about 15 minutes applying for passport extension. Spent another 30 minutes or so browsing books in Borders bookstore (it was right there! I couldn’t help it!). Then I got back home at 5:49pm.
Somebody calculate for me how much time I spent on getting from point A to point B – driving (well, ok, sitting in that bitch of traffic), in subway stations, in subway trains and walking. Cause I’m too exhausted to do it myself.
Serious Stuff. Seriously
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