Road rage

I don't exactly have the cleanest of language.

I tend to love throwing in a well placed "fuck" or "shit"

to really drive my point home.

But when the hell did I learn to be such a
Walmart redneck Republican when it comes to driving?!?!
I blame the FIB license plate that has been affixed to my car for the past 5 years.

I was on my way into work the other day, and on the drive,

I got stuck behind this stupid rusty Lumina mini-van.
You know the type...
The kind of vehicle that looks like it was on its last leg in 1991.
(The same likely being said for its driver.)

That car that consistently taps on its brakes for no apparent reason,
insists on driving in the left lane despite going 15 mph below the speed limit,
and fails to ever use  a turn signal
(probably because they haven't been functioning this century).

Enter: Soundtrack for the remainder of this post:

Now, normally, I don't care what kind of person you are
when I see you on the street.
I pride myself on being a very open person who will not judge you
on the color of your skin, your sexual preference, or your size.

However, apparently I become a total and utter ignorant redneck when I get behind the wheel in rush hour traffic.
Any stereotype or derogatory word I can think of about the driver in front of me
comes flying out of my mouth at 100 mph.
This is magnified when I am stuck in traffic and trying to get somewhere on time.

(Note:  I consider "on time" being 15 minutes early.

This philosophy tends to increase my stress level immensely.)  

Back to the Lumina.

I witness this extremely  obese white arm toss Taco Bell wrappers
out the window and right onto the freeway.

I found myself in a rage!  Calling the lady driver in this particular car a fat ass bitch.

I honked and hollered,
"WTF Michelin Man! This isn't the GD dump!"
Not to mention,
where the hell did she find a T-Bell open at 6:30am?!?
Fat people connections.

But seriously, did I really just call this person who, granted was littering and driving insanely slow, a fat ass bitch?  I don't know her or her situation.

She may have an underactive thyroid gland.

Maybe there was a giant bug on that wrapper and she simply lost her shit.

Maybe she is a totally nice person who brakes for squirrels.

(FYI - I don't brake for squirrels, they are fuckwads.

Judge me if you must).

Regardless, I immediately felt horrible remorse & consciously told myself to stop.

As angry as I can get with this lady in front of me,

it's not going to change her speed or her shitty driving & littering habits.

No need to develop pre-eclampsia over a half-eaten Chalupa

on a road I soon no longer ever have to drive on.

So, I am going to attempt to be more Zen on the road from now on.

(Occasionally allowing myself to dream of what it would be like to have James Bond

sniper guns affixed to the sides of my Toyota Yaris

and how great it would feel to blow her big beefy butt off the road,

straight into the wrath of Al Gore.)

But if not for me, I will do it for Baby.

Lord knows I don't want his first word to be a four-letter one.