Two wrongs don't make a right, but three lefts do

Dear lady in the SUV turning right off of Kimball onto the 114 service road,

I just wanted to extend my most heartfelt thanks to you for showing me the error of my driving ways. All this time I thought it was proper driving technique that when you are turning right, to turn into the most right-hand lane of the road you are turning onto.

But the other day when you made a right-hand turn onto the three lane service road and ended up in the far left lane (or as I saw it; my lane, since I was turning left into it), all the while honking, shaking your rather hairy knuckles, and yelling what looked like "bass-pole" at me, I realized I had been wrong all this time.

You can't really blame me for not being aware of the "turn into any bloody lane that you feel like" rule. You see, up in Canada (where I hail from), we follow the rule as I stated it above. When I moved to California and had to take my road test again, I found that they too have strict rules when it comes to turning.

But now that I've lived here in Texas awhile, I've discovered that most people don't care what lane they turn into, just as long as nobody impedes them.

Now that I've learned my lesson of the lanes, I'm going to take it up a notch. I figure I'll start turning left from the centre lane from now on. Or, when I get really good at it, make a right hand turn from the far left lane. I also see that a lot of people here like to drive the wrong way on the highway. Maybe I'll add that to my repertoire.

So thank you again scary, crazy lady; the finger you flipped me at the end was the icing on my cake. I hadn't received the one-finger salute in awhile and had forgotten how much it makes me laugh.

Sincerely,
Joanne

In case my description of the incident above is a tad confusing: I was turning left onto the service road, angrylady was turning right onto the same road. We turned at the same time; I into the left lane, and she, also into the left lane. At which point the fun began.

I Love...

Warning, this post may be a wee bit sarcastic. Oh, who am I kidding. It's going to be alllllll sarcasm, allllll the time. I have a few things I need to get off my chest. I may not be necessarily blessed in that area, but it's carrying a lot of junk right now. Ready? Here goes:

... people who speed up when I put my signal on to get into their lane. Ohhhh, so sorry that I'm impinging on your precious part of the highway. Oh wait, it doesn't belong to you? Then watch out, I'm coming over anyway. Get ready to rear-end me. (I only do this when Elise is NOT with me).

... people who believe that the rules don't apply to them and it's okay to leave their car running while filling up their gas tank. Or talking on the cell phone while pumping gas for that matter. Listen, just because you want to make a run for this year's Darwin Awards, don't take me with you because I have the bad luck of being at the pump next to you.

... people in stores who loudly tell stories of their drunken night out, followed by a drunken drive home, which culminated in them being pulled over and yelling profanities at the police officer. And hey, speaking of the police... they then go on to tell about that time last year when they were pulled over for all those warrants, and how that was soooooo funny. Shut up. My daughter is listening and in a few years will start asking me what "wasted" means. Save that crap for facebook.

... 100+ degree weather in June (I know it's July, I started this post mid-June). I guess hell has expanded it's borders to include Dallas now. It was only a matter of time. Shoot, I guess my property value is going to go to... well, Dallas. Oh, and can I hear a hip, hip, hooray for ozone action red days? Being stuck inside with a wound-up toddler who has only napped for 30 minutes is such great fun.

... people who write in "text speak". I don't have the time, or will-power to read your email asking, "how r u?", or "what's up w/ u 2nite?". And those are just the easy ones. If I wanted to be able to read hieroglyphics, I would have studied Egyptology. Sometimes, I weep for the future.

... the 45-minute Intruder. If you don't know what this is, then you either don't have small children who nap, or you're one of those people whose children take the fabled "three hour nap". In either case I hate you. But not as much as I hate the aforementioned Intruder. Please, please, PLEASE go away and allow my child more than a quarter-of-an-hour of rest. Oh, who am I kidding? It's me! I'm the one who needs the rest...

... commercials, either on TV or radio, in which the announcer has poor pronunciation. Things like saying, "yer" instead of your. Or "fer" instead of for. Unless it's a particular character yer goin' fer, learn to pronounce the words properly.

... people who try to go through the intersection when traffic is backed up and end up sitting in the middle of the intersection when their light has turned red because there is nowhere for them to go. We have one such intersection right near our house, and the other day I had to sit there through two green lights because of the jerkwads who do this. It usually takes all my strength not to get out of my car and get up on the hood of their car; jumping up and down while screaming at them. Yes, I am well aware I have an anger problem... and? At least I write about it instead of actually doing it.

Okay, time to end this lest all the sarcasm explodes my brain or something. Plus Elise has already slept her allotted 45 minutes. Sigh.

Sarcasm Sounds Best in B-Flat

If my life were a Broadway show, I think it would be called "Sarcastic, the Musical". Jodie Foster would play me. Not because I think I look like Jodie Foster, but a crazy man in San Fransisco told me that I could be her twin. Good enough for me! David Duchovny would play Fred. No wait... I would play me, and David Duchovny would play Fred. No wait... Gillian Anderson would play me, David Duchovny would play Fred, then I could see them kiss without having to watch the new X-Files movie.

I like musicals. In fact, I think life should be one big musical. I love the idea of breaking into song, just because the moment tickles you. There is something so freeing, so utterly fantastic about it. Not convinced? Imagine this:

You're driving down the highway and some jerkwad does a three-lane-at-a-time lane change, almost becoming your new hood ornament. What do you do? You could speed up, get in front of him, and then slam on your breaks; refusing to move for the next 5 minutes. Or you could break into song:

You cut me off
You stupid jerk
You cut me off
I'm late for work
Now feel the wrath
Of my extended finger
And may the shame of what you did
Throughout the day linger

While you are composing your eventual Grammy-winning song from a musical, you will have arrived at your destination, all you anger vanquished from singing.

I think marriages could use some music too. What if your fight with your spouse was done as a duet:

Wife: Why do you always
Leave your dirty dishes in the sink
Why do you always
Speak before you think?
Why can't you ever
Buy me something nice?
Or even share
The remote control device?

Husband: You talk too much
It's always yap yap yap
You talk to much
Your gums, they always flap
I work so hard
I need some peace and quiet
If you want something nice
Why don't you go and buy it?

Together: You drive me crazy, but I... love... you... anyway!

As they sing the last line, the couple would fall into each other's arms and passionately kiss.

Could you imagine trying to have a good, old-fashioned, door-slamming, foot-stomping, phone-throwing fight with your spouse while singing to them? Plus, it's really hard to find words that rhyme with "jerk-face". I think this could end marital strife as we know it!

So, if your life was a musical, what would it be called? And who would play you? Come on, I know I have some very imaginative friends out there...