If you want my opinion the test to get your driver's license does not ask the right questions. If I were in charge, the questions would look something like this:
1. Do you think the world revolves around you?
2. Do you think driving is the perfect time to:
a. pluck your nose hair
b. train a puppy
c.shave your legs
d. play "look, ma! no hands!"
e. all of the above
3. Are you an asshole?
4. Are you, in general, too dumb to function?
5. Do you think driving ten miles below the speed limit in the fast line is your right as an Amurican citizen?
6. In your spare time, do you
a. kick puppies
b. knock down old ladies
c. steal candy from children
d. all of the above
If you answered "yes" or selected choices a - e, congratulations! You are douchenugget and will no longer be allowed to leave the house. Ever.
Unfortunately, I don't rule the world (yet) and I'm forced to tolerate these driving menaces. And by "tolerate" I mean curse, scream, shout, and throw my hands up in rage. In other words, I turn into The Hulk.
Topping my list of driving behaviors that piss me right off is people who drive soooo damnnnn slooooow. I'm not asking to go 120 mph. I'd just like to go the SPEED LIMIT in the FAST LINE on 95. If you like to take in the scenery of trees, tire bits and rotting animal carcasses, there's a lane for you. It's on the right. Get yourself there immediately. Do not pass GO and do not collect two hundred dollars.
Speaking of slow drivers, here's a news flash: If you want to merge onto the highway you need to SPEED UP! As in, GO FASTER! I know word problems are hard, but this one's pretty straight forward. You travel north going 30 miles an hour. Everybody else also travels north but goes 70+ miles an hour. You need to merge with everybody else but do not speed up. At what time do you cause an accident?
Immediately. See how easy that was? If your foot is allergic to the gas pedal, I implore, stay home. Scratch your balls, pick your teen, clean out your toe jam. Just stay off the highway.
I reserve a special sort of fury for people who cut you off like they're in some big, important hurry then proceed to slow down as soon as they're in front of you. So. Much. Rage.
I know what you're thinking. Instead of sitting around bitching about it, why don't you do something about it?
And to that I say, I couldn't agree more. In fact, I've already come up with a terrific plan.
The lack of rockets on motor vehicles is a huge oversight by car manufacturing companies. I mean, it works out well for fighter jets, right? Offending driver comes within view? Deploy rocket and BOOM! Problem solved.
I was all ready to patent this idea but then the husband informed me that he was pretty certain blowing up cars on the highway is illegal.
Way to poop on my parade, dude.
I guess I'll just have to get idiots off the road the old fashioned way: by calling highway patrol. Which is exactly what I did a few weeks ago when the car in front of me was swerving all over the road. I don't know if the driver was drunk, high, tweezing his knuckles, or had a toy gun shoved up his ass.
What? You haven't heard of that story? Apparently some guy decided driving would be the perfect time to pleasure himself. But he wasn't satisfied with a little up, down, up, down, left, right, over the river and through the woods action. No, he needed props to ensure his highway masturbatory experience reached full throttle.
So, he tied a string around his wiener and tied the other end to the trigger of a toy gun, which he shoved up his poop shoot. Every time he gave his wiener a little wanky wanky, it pulled the trigger and stimulated his...well, you get the idea.
True. Story. Honestly, people, I couldn't make this up if I tried.
Anyway, I'm not sure what the erratic driver that I witnessed was up to, but he was a danger to everyone else on the road and I have no patience for that shit. If you want to kill yourself, do it on your own time. Other people would like to live to see their great Aunt Sally's 80th birthday, or the football game they're headed to, or maybe they just want to get home, prop their feet up and eat a pound of bacon and a bag of Oreos.
The husband dialed *FHP and I reported (via bluetooth) the bad driver. I know being a tattletale isn't very "cool" but in this case, it could save lives. And saving lives is like, one of the coolest things evah! So, yay me! I'll take a cookie please.
I'm not trying to be a bitch,
Editor's note: It should go without saying that this post is one of satire. The Sarcasm Goddess is not actually endorsing blowing up cars or any other acts of road rage, nor does she actually want to do harm to other drivers on the road. But she will call the cops on your ass if you're driving badly. So keep those hands at two and ten. Buckle up. Don't drink and drive. Don't text and drive. Use your turn signal. And above all Be Kind; Rewind.