Spacers. I will NEVER, ever underestimate the pain a few stupid little rubber bands can cause. They are like viruses. How can something so small win? You ask.
They win. And I'll tell you why it's better to get braces when you are a kid.
Because kids don't drink ALCOHOL.
After eating nothing but soup.
For TWO DAYS.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Seattle: condemning turn signals one jackass at a time
Um, ok. When I moved to Seattle from Southern California I thought, how nice! Look at everyone, using their turn signals! Blinking lights! Merging! Beautiful!
No. It's not beautiful. It's corrupted.
Why? Because the sense of entitlement on I-5 is blown wayyyyyy out of proportion. As in, the guy you are merging in front of was there first: he is entitled to be in that spot. And no merging low-life is going to take that away from him.
It's almost, really, down to an exact science. The steps being the following:
1. You enter an onramp and accelerate. Like you're supposed to. Based on some, I dunno, retarded traffic law.
2. You reach the flow of traffic and blink your turn signal. (tip: mistake number 1.)
3. Coincidentally you are about to merge directly in front of a jackass.
4. Jackass panics. Jackass has somewhere to be. Jackass is convinced that if there is suddenly an extra car length between jackass and jackass destination that hours will be lost.
5. Jackass speeds up. A lot.
6. You continue to merge, because, what are you doing to do? Stop on the freeway? Slow to a crawl, disrupt traffic, cause a backup and maybe an accident, so that said jackass can pet jackass ego?
7. Jackass becomes enraged at your decision to 'cut jackass off' despite his doubling in speed over the last 0.5 seconds.
8. Jackass honks.
9. Jackass changes lanes to go around you at the first chance, because the next lane over is really faster in rush hour than the one you are in (read: not.)
10. Jackass looks over while passing to convey look of extreme disgust while secretly planning new addition to pre-existing 'freeway voodooo doll collection.'
11. You act oblivious. But you are laughing on the inside. I mean, seriously? Grow up.
No. It's not beautiful. It's corrupted.
Why? Because the sense of entitlement on I-5 is blown wayyyyyy out of proportion. As in, the guy you are merging in front of was there first: he is entitled to be in that spot. And no merging low-life is going to take that away from him.
It's almost, really, down to an exact science. The steps being the following:
1. You enter an onramp and accelerate. Like you're supposed to. Based on some, I dunno, retarded traffic law.
2. You reach the flow of traffic and blink your turn signal. (tip: mistake number 1.)
3. Coincidentally you are about to merge directly in front of a jackass.
4. Jackass panics. Jackass has somewhere to be. Jackass is convinced that if there is suddenly an extra car length between jackass and jackass destination that hours will be lost.
5. Jackass speeds up. A lot.
6. You continue to merge, because, what are you doing to do? Stop on the freeway? Slow to a crawl, disrupt traffic, cause a backup and maybe an accident, so that said jackass can pet jackass ego?
7. Jackass becomes enraged at your decision to 'cut jackass off' despite his doubling in speed over the last 0.5 seconds.
8. Jackass honks.
9. Jackass changes lanes to go around you at the first chance, because the next lane over is really faster in rush hour than the one you are in (read: not.)
10. Jackass looks over while passing to convey look of extreme disgust while secretly planning new addition to pre-existing 'freeway voodooo doll collection.'
11. You act oblivious. But you are laughing on the inside. I mean, seriously? Grow up.
Monday, September 8, 2008
I mean, vanilla?
Location: Las Vegas International Airport.
I have an hour to wait for my next flight and decide to forego the annoying ching-ching of the slot machines for a caramel macchiato and free in-flight cheese nips (I mean, in the airport? Really? When is the last time you heard "I hit the jackpot in the C terminal!!"?) Sidenote: Southwest airlines should get some kind of snack award for doing away with nasty pretzel concoctions. As I'm waiting to order a woman walks up with a baby bottle in her hand, and out of the corner of my eye I catch the look on her face that people use when they really want to go in front of you but don't actually have a really good reason for it other than the fact they feel entitled to do so. Whatever lady. This is Starbucks, and you already have milk in the bottle. Your baby is probably on its 3rd bottle for the day and I have yet to touch an espresso to my lips so I can't possibly understand what could be important enough to let you go ahead of me. Of course, as long as I don't actually look at her I can act totally oblivious. Which I do. And order. Yesssss.
Lady: "Excuse me, but do you think I can get a couple squirts of vanilla syrup in my bottle? I ran out of vanilla milk and I was hoping I could 'fudge' it with the flavoring."
Barista: "Uhhh...sure...I guess so!"
Me: WTF? There are only so many explanations for this.
A) The woman is a hopeless drunk and couldn't afford real liquor during her pregnancy so opted for the cheaper, bakery-aisle version. Now has to keep up facade.
B) I was wrong about Hawaii and utopia is actually being this woman's baby.
C) The woman is insane and/or retarded.
D) The baby is a genius.
Then again, it could be that I'm retarded and baby vanilla milk is the new pigskin dog chew. Nobody likes a bowel obstruction.
I have an hour to wait for my next flight and decide to forego the annoying ching-ching of the slot machines for a caramel macchiato and free in-flight cheese nips (I mean, in the airport? Really? When is the last time you heard "I hit the jackpot in the C terminal!!"?) Sidenote: Southwest airlines should get some kind of snack award for doing away with nasty pretzel concoctions. As I'm waiting to order a woman walks up with a baby bottle in her hand, and out of the corner of my eye I catch the look on her face that people use when they really want to go in front of you but don't actually have a really good reason for it other than the fact they feel entitled to do so. Whatever lady. This is Starbucks, and you already have milk in the bottle. Your baby is probably on its 3rd bottle for the day and I have yet to touch an espresso to my lips so I can't possibly understand what could be important enough to let you go ahead of me. Of course, as long as I don't actually look at her I can act totally oblivious. Which I do. And order. Yesssss.
Lady: "Excuse me, but do you think I can get a couple squirts of vanilla syrup in my bottle? I ran out of vanilla milk and I was hoping I could 'fudge' it with the flavoring."
Barista: "Uhhh...sure...I guess so!"
Me: WTF? There are only so many explanations for this.
A) The woman is a hopeless drunk and couldn't afford real liquor during her pregnancy so opted for the cheaper, bakery-aisle version. Now has to keep up facade.
B) I was wrong about Hawaii and utopia is actually being this woman's baby.
C) The woman is insane and/or retarded.
D) The baby is a genius.
Then again, it could be that I'm retarded and baby vanilla milk is the new pigskin dog chew. Nobody likes a bowel obstruction.
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