breathe in tranquility, breathe out hostility

I haven't posted in a while (sorry, Trillian!) because I've been house/dogsitting and I haven't had regular access to the internet. Which could have dire consequences to someone as addicted to the internet as I am. I'm done housesitting, though.

I'm actually posting from a computer at Sinclair right now because I have class in about an hour. I noticed on the way here that I was getting extreme road rage. This worries me, because this entire week I have been so enraged at EVERYTHING. Maybe it's because I haven't been sleeping very well or that I've started drinking copious amounts of coffee in the morning or the combination of the two, but it hasn't taken much to set me off this week.

Especially while driving. I guess I drove more this week than usual, because I was driving back and forth from home to the house I was watching to school a lot. Now that I think about it, maybe that was part of the rage problem.

I've come to the conclusion that no one knows how to drive. No one. I'm not saying I'm immune from the Psychotic-Asanine-Driving-Mistake rays that are apparently hitting the earth. I'm sure I've pissed off my share of other drivers.

I wish I could e-mail or send letters to some of these people, though. Maybe they read this (doubtful) so if they do (ha, right) I'll put them here, just to be on the safe side.

Dear Every Car on the Road,

I know the speed limit is normally 35 on main roads. But, do you think, just maybe, those nutty people in the government might have put OTHER speed limits into place? For instance, we are now on Far Hills. Also known as 48. And Main Street. And you know what? The speed limit goes from 25, to 35, to 40, to 45, and then back to 35. So can you please look at the speed limit signs and go the right damn speed? I'm not asking you to speed, but you don't have to go 5 mph under the speed limit. I won't tell. I promise.

Dear Middle-Aged Man who probably bought that big, giant SUV/truck because he has a tiny hoo-hoo,

I hate you. Move your monstrosity of a vehicle the hell out of my way before I ram my car into the back of you. You don't think I'll do it? Look at my car, then look at your car. Who do you think is going to be more upset about dents and scratches?

Dear 17-year-old boy in the flashy, shiny whatever car,

I don't think you look cool. That spoiler looks stupid. I am not going to have sex with you, no matter how much you rev your engine.

Dear Silver Honda Eclipse,

It's called a turn signal. It's right next to the steering wheel. If you would use it when you cut into the lane in front of me, I would be less likely to honk at you as I swerve off the road into a ditch.

Dear Woman in minivan who is talking on a cell phone,

Hey, guess what! You've swerved into my lane 15 times now! You win the Get-Off-Your-Cell-And-Look-At-The-Road,-Asshole Award!

Dear Man living in the suburbs who drives a Hummer,

How environmentally conscious of you, sir! I'm sure that will come in handy when we are invaded by aliens and they turn the entire country into a desert.

PS: Nice Bush/Cheney sticker.