I realized the other day that I haven�t really bitched strenuously about anything recently. That�s disgraceful of me, and I apologize. What is this website if not an outlet for my uncontrolled volatility? It alarms me that I haven�t taken to task the numerous deserving asswipes of greater Los Angeles in so long, because it means that either a) my aggressions are finding another outlet (i.e., I�m actually directing it toward the target in question, which is a dangerous prospect in a metropolitan area rather known for its gun-related violence), or b) I�m getting soft. Which is UNACCEPTABLE. Henceforth and therewith�
What the FUCK is with people in those damned outsize SUVs who infest the streets of LA? Particularly, the section between Beverly and Santa Monica, where the streets are about the size of dental tape and always lined with cars, trucks that never move, and those hulking industrial waste bins that are about two acres wide and loaded with huge pieces of tree. The seething hatred, it burns like acid on my brain! When I try to pilot my respectfully compact and fuel-efficient automobile through that neighborhood, and some narcissistic cockhole is driving his fucking HOUSE down the CENTER LINE�because why NOT take your half out of the middle, if you�re already being an asshole about the environment�it makes me wish I kept a supply of paint-filled balloons or a bucket of shrapnel on the seat next to me.
Seriously, it galls me to have to, essentially, stop moving all together and eke my car over to the side, nearly tearing my side mirror off on a parked Honda so some douchebag can roar past me in a pick-up the size of a garbage barge, nearly tearing off the other side mirror. I actually DID nearly tear off my side mirror when I clipped a recycling bin last Spring in an attempt to avoid total pulverization under the wheels of some kind of flatbed. I mean, what in the hell is wrong with these people? First of all, why are they in the middle of the road? Second, why are they driving at forty thousand miles an hour in a residential zone and when they�ve got exactly two inches of driver error on either side to avoid significant property damage? Third, why can�t they WAIT THEIR FUCKING TURN?
I wish I could say I just wouldn�t move next time, but I happen to like my car and spine and don�t put it past these motherfuckers to just monster truck it over top of me and keep on going. If I leave early enough, the streets have less traffic, but I�m not going to get up at five in the morning just to hopefully evade some selfish vagina-head�s reign of despotic, automotive terror, and that doesn�t either solve the problem of what the hell I�m to do at the end of the day when it�s dark and I�m still in that neighborhood and a set of lights come barreling towards me like an enraged bull through a chute and my only options are to either compress to the size of a breath strip or call a friend who can accurately transcribe my last wishes in the two and a half seconds of life I�ve got left.
Now although I have occasionally proven myself to be capable of getting worked up about stuff, I believe I have also shown myself to be fairly pacifistic (at least in my approach to dealing with these situations). I do not, therefore truly mean it when I tell you to go out and spike the tires of any SUV you find parked in that neighborhood or any other, nor do I really want them all to eat a Sno-Cone of broken glass flavored with a culture of dysentery, but it is a fact that if I were Carrie White, there would be some serious mass carnage and flying automobiles in the eastern reaches of Los Angeles.
Oh, and for those of you who have expressed interest, the romantic weekend getaway was appropriately romantic, and really just wonderful overall. We�re looking forward to many more! Provided that, you know, I don�t end up totally broke.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: ladies having sex [�Ladies�?] I�m Watching: Not much, actually. Still mostly just Passions, although the whole Ethan-on-the-brink-of-death storyline is leaving me pretty cold. I�m Reading: The Pocket Dictionary of American Slang from 1968. It�s pretty damn groovy, y�all.