Let me ask you something, is it me or do you also end up driving behind some sprinkle cheese cornhole who for whatever reason has decided to leave any semblance of logic and common sense back in the trailer park from whence they came. I’m not exactly sure why I have been chosen to be the lightning rod of normalcy for every single person that dwells in that particular trailer park, but so be it I have been. It is much easier to accept this fate than constantly ask myself “Why?” It does seem that understanding which side the brake, and which side the accelerator is on is not a prerequisite for living in this fine “community”. As a matter of fact you don’t even have to have a license to drive a car from them thar parts, or so it would seem from my perspective.

Now I’m not one to go out on such a tenuous limb as to say “everyone” that drives near, around, in front, behind, or just in the general vicinity of me is a boob. Far from it, I know that sometimes when I am driving around I am in fact that boob, who for some reason can’t seem to grasp the challenging aspect of simple hand/eye coordination. However, I, unlike my fellow weary travelers do not pull into traffic at roaring clip of 20 mph and then give the other drivers the stink eye, as if they did something wrong (can you guess what happened to me earlier today). For the love of god you idiot it is at times like these that I wish I had rocket launchers attached to my car so I could show you what I really think of you!

The driver with whom I am coming to loathe the most is the “Sure I can drive and talk on the cell phone at the same time” cretin. Right about now you are probably saying to yourself “It’s the other guy who seems to have a problem controlling both car and conversation.” “He is certainly not speaking about me!” Well let me tell you something Sally, “I am!” Most of the people driving around and talking on the phone are not what you would call “coordinated”. However they are zooming around in a 2000 lb., piece of metal while balancing a small cell phone to their ear, trying to find out what spoiled little Johnny wants from Burger King!

Usually the worse offender of this is the young girl who thinks being hip is wearing sun glasses that many old Jewish women in Miami would be proud to own, short mid-drif shirt (to highlight the oh so flattering muffin top, and last but not least the ridiculous looking after ski boots! Listen here you skank, you are not cool, you are not coordinated, and you don’t deserve to drive a car until you stop starting every sentence with the word “Like”.

Driving around the big city is difficult enough without the distraction of an absolutely inane conversation to make you take your eye off the road just long enough to be disastrous. So please take note all you soccer-moms, business-dweebs, computer-geeks, and basic wannabes GET OFF YOUR GOD DAMN CELL PHONE!

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