Not So Scary Monsters
Even though this happened Tuesday, I was going to post it on Halloween because other than work, this is about as horrible as the week has gotten. Things just turned hectic around the Procrastinator household and I'm getting to it this morning.
So I was driving home on the same street where I had 86'd the pigeon and I stopped at the red light. A woman pulled up next to me in a Miata. She was tastefully done up in business attire and had her hair up. She stuck out, because frankly, women like that do not drive in reverse commute on this street.
As a matter of fact, this time of the morning, this direction is strictly for newspaper delivery trucks, bread delivery trucks, carpenters, cabbies, and people that should not be behind the wheel, because they are coming down rather poorly from whatever excess they shouldn't have been overindulging in.
You know and I know what happens when you pull up at a stoplight and the person next to you thinks that they are invisible...that's right, you see them for what they truly are.
Most of the time, they are yakking away on their cell phone and you want to say to them, "you know the person on the other side of the conversation can't see your gesticulating, right?"
They shift in their seat. You know what that shift means and you are glad that you're not riding with them, because they've just cut more cheese than all the dairy farms in Wisconsin.
They belch so loud, that you can actually, though faintly hear them through their windows and yours.
They...well, let me preface this by saying by back around '88, I saw a Popeye cartoon in the morning.
That very afternoon I had three lady friends with me in the car and we saw the guy in the car next to us, going for the full dig. I mean, he had almost the bottom knuckle of his index finger in his nostril. He was on the verge of hitting gray matter and as the women were about to shriek, I quoted Olive Oyl singing to the tune of "Early In The Morning"-
Here we go gathering nuggets in May
Nuggets in May
Nuggets in May
Here we go gathering nuggets in May
La-de-da-de-dah-dah
Cut back to last Tuesday and I see Miss Executive Miata's left hand go up. I'm thinking it is going to go higher, but she stops short just below her mouth. Is she going to do the bulimia-thing without a toilet nearby? Jeez, at least roll down the window before you...nope, she went for her chin.
She popped a zit.
With the exception of this kind of crass woman that I dated some two decades ago, I've never seen a woman pop a zit and wow, that's...just...ugh! What if she gets pus on her fancy clothes? Jeez, I don't want to be her dry cleaner and oh, the light is finally green, thank God. My hypnotic impulse to rubberneck is saved by my heavy right foot.
Somewhere tomorrow, there is a dry cleaner saying out loud, "do I really want to know that this is?"
So I was driving home on the same street where I had 86'd the pigeon and I stopped at the red light. A woman pulled up next to me in a Miata. She was tastefully done up in business attire and had her hair up. She stuck out, because frankly, women like that do not drive in reverse commute on this street.
As a matter of fact, this time of the morning, this direction is strictly for newspaper delivery trucks, bread delivery trucks, carpenters, cabbies, and people that should not be behind the wheel, because they are coming down rather poorly from whatever excess they shouldn't have been overindulging in.
You know and I know what happens when you pull up at a stoplight and the person next to you thinks that they are invisible...that's right, you see them for what they truly are.
Most of the time, they are yakking away on their cell phone and you want to say to them, "you know the person on the other side of the conversation can't see your gesticulating, right?"
They shift in their seat. You know what that shift means and you are glad that you're not riding with them, because they've just cut more cheese than all the dairy farms in Wisconsin.
They belch so loud, that you can actually, though faintly hear them through their windows and yours.
They...well, let me preface this by saying by back around '88, I saw a Popeye cartoon in the morning.
That very afternoon I had three lady friends with me in the car and we saw the guy in the car next to us, going for the full dig. I mean, he had almost the bottom knuckle of his index finger in his nostril. He was on the verge of hitting gray matter and as the women were about to shriek, I quoted Olive Oyl singing to the tune of "Early In The Morning"-
Here we go gathering nuggets in May
Nuggets in May
Nuggets in May
Here we go gathering nuggets in May
La-de-da-de-dah-dah
Cut back to last Tuesday and I see Miss Executive Miata's left hand go up. I'm thinking it is going to go higher, but she stops short just below her mouth. Is she going to do the bulimia-thing without a toilet nearby? Jeez, at least roll down the window before you...nope, she went for her chin.
She popped a zit.
With the exception of this kind of crass woman that I dated some two decades ago, I've never seen a woman pop a zit and wow, that's...just...ugh! What if she gets pus on her fancy clothes? Jeez, I don't want to be her dry cleaner and oh, the light is finally green, thank God. My hypnotic impulse to rubberneck is saved by my heavy right foot.
Somewhere tomorrow, there is a dry cleaner saying out loud, "do I really want to know that this is?"
posted by Writeprocrastinator at 12:45 AM
15 Comments:
Um, maybe you should consider keeping your eyes at home. Now I'm horrified to think of what "private" behavior I've engaged in while stopped in traffic, although I tend to tune other people out whenever I want to do whatever I feel needs to be done. Perhaps this is why I'm frequently arrested.
Coaster,
I usually do keep them forward, she had stopped a tiny bit further than what was necessary and that is what originally drew my attention.
As far as other "private behaviors," that's why most traffic lights only last so long and why I get stuck behind couples swapping spit, though I'm not so cool with that when I have to get to work.
A suburb that I was stuck for so many years, has stoplights that go on for a couple of minutes or more, leaving room for all kinds of "boredom."
Sometimes those zits are just begging for it.
It probably didn't run down her clothes. With proper form, she probably got it to spurt forward onto her dashboard, to dry in the sun.
That is nauseating. Who does that?!?! It's right up there with nose pickery neesh and finger-in-ass-sniff-while driving. Yes, I've seen that. Ewwww.
Becky,
Possibly, but please, not in public.
Bubs,
She's got mad zit skills, yo.
Katie-lah,
Nasty stuff.
Finger-in-ass sniff WHILE driving? That's quite an amazing feat. I wouldn't know whether to be digusted or impressed if I saw that.
It probably hit the mirror a while back and every time she looks in it, she thinks it's still there. Eventually, she'll pop her entire head off sparing you further indignities.
Becky,
Katie has lived in West Hollywood and San Fernando Valley, the latter where allegedly 80% of the world's porn comes from. If she says she saw something odd...
Dale,
Ahhhhhh, I don't know what to say to that.
Mission accomplished.
Dale,
"Mission accomplished."
As long as you don't land on a RCN aircraft carrier with a banner saying such.
it was you.
i wrote yesterday about the extremely flat pigeon i almost-but-not-quite stepped into and i wondered who squished him.
now i know.
what i don't know is...how did you ship the body?
Quin,
Nah, I'm a local pigeon slayer and I definitely wouldn't ship something like that through the mail, the USPS hates me enough as is.
Ironically, I saw another one get hit on the way to picking the kid up from school.
oh my friggin word dude- thats shocking- and hysterical!
Angel,
Do South Africans dig for nuggets in May or pop zits while they drive?
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