Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Pet Peeves

While reading FooDaddy’s post, I couldn’t help but think of some of the annoyances that litter my life. For instance, I spend a lot of time on the road and see a lot of stupid things. One of the things that irritate me is when people with the intellects of pork chops try to merge in traffic. No, that’s not entirely accurate. They don’t try to merge. That’s the problem. I can deal with someone who is making a genuine attempt to “go with the flow.” These people, however, see this large, hulking vehicle on their left and panic. Thinking I am going to run over them, they begin to slow down. I glance to my left, but see there is a line of traffic in the so-called passing lane. Because my truck is not designed for jackrabbit performance, I am unable to change lanes and zip past the “merging” vehicle. Therefore, to avoid running the newcomer off the road and into a deep ditch, I must also slow down. The idiot in the car, for some bizarre reason, thinks that I am slowing down so I will have a better chance of killing him. Hoping to throw my devilish plan into disarray, he deems it prudent to reduce his speed even further. Again, to avoid running him off the road, I do the same. Eventually, he realizes that he is being a complete moron and jams on the accelerator. As I watch him disappear over a hill, I am left to slowly regain my speed, while, behind me, several miles of irritated travelers, who are wondering why this behemoth is lumbering down the highway at 30 mph, plant their fists firmly on their car horns.

But anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. What I was going to tell you is that I forgot where I parked my car the other day. No, actually, it hid from me. I remembered exactly where I had parked, but when I came out of the store, my car was mysteriously missing. Oh, now I remember how this all ties in. I hate the feeling I get when I can’t find my car in public parking lot.

I exit the store, step off the curb, and head for the lot, only to realize, “I don’t know where my car is!”

I begin ambling nonchalantly, trying to exude a very deliberate attitude in an attempt to fool people into thinking that I know exactly where I am going or, at the very least, prevent them from taking any special notice of me. I angle casually to and fro, hoping to catch sight of my car in some distant parking space. It is then that I notice some incredibly beautiful specimen of womanhood watching me from a parked car, no doubt waiting on her flawless, muscular boyfriend, who never loses anything, much less anything the size of a car. Although she is expressionless, I know she is watching with amusement and disdain. I am humiliated and my random wanderings become much more feverish and desperate. Soon I am flitting about the parking lot with the reckless abandon of a squirrel in traffic, frantically whizzing in and out between parked vehicles, setting off car alarms and causing massive traffic jams. At last, I see a car that looks just like mine and only after I break my key off in the lock do I realize that my car is actually parked in the next space over.

You can see, readers, why I hate it when this happens. There are many other things that irritate me, but right now, the tapping of this keyboard is really getting on my nerves. Agh!


Jack W. Regan said...

By the way, do you guys realize this is the 50th post on the new Blog? Cool, eh?

Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

50th, eh? Well, we most certainly rock!

I have experienced the same thing, and it is indeed peevy. There are two breeds of merge-monkeys: the ones who drift into the left lane as soon as possible so they can mosey about at parade speed, waving to people on overpasses, and the ones who end up passing you later, doing 90. Apparently, with this second type, speed is only to be approached carefully and none too quick, lest they startle it. After about ten minutes of leisurly acceleration, they reach their cruising speed.

Peevy indeed.

Jack W. Regan said...

50 posts. Pshaw! We are now waaaay past such lamitude. We are now well over two hundred and fifty.