Hello fellow partisans, those of which participate in the weekly recitation of all things weird in the world of a lowly writer, I bid you adieu. Aside from the stress of nearly getting creamed this past week on several occasions by those feeling it’s more important to text, obtain their booze, or get to there destination fifteen seconds quicker, I’m feeling oddly optimistic. Lack of sleep will do that to a person. But it beckons the question:
Why must we share the roads with such bad drivers?
I was going to go for inconsiderate asshole, but I feel that’s too specific a term, like saying ‘potato’ when you really mean ‘vegetable’; I think giving someone too specific a connotation is apt to give them a big head. Bad drivers do seem to form a niche of their own, don’t they?
Everywhere you look, bad drivers plague the roads. It’s bad enough that you have to waste time commuting. We have the added pressure know that ol’ Jed McWhoever who frequents the county drunk tank, Stacy Lazibrain of seventeen with a new sports car in her parents’ name, and Grannie Annie whose dog’s eyesight is better than hers all just got their license back in some way. Either for the first time, renewed for the seventieth, or unrevoked “for the last time,” says officer Blowhard.
That’s some scary stuff!
The possibilities of death by commute are endless.
You would think someone like myself, one of a sound enough mind to stray from the dangers of the masses as well as their vicissitudes but always willing to pay just enough attention, would have learned a trick or two to avoid yonder conflict. Alas, I haven’t, but what I have learned is this: be aware of your surroundings.
This rule of thumb has saved my life twice this last week.
Even if you’re walking down the sidewalk, it never hurts to glance your shoulder; because, someone may, in fact, be driving on the shoulder. You wouldn’t want to get plowed right after stepping out of Macy’s, would you? Just practice self-awareness as much as possible.
This brings me to a new segment in the weekly entry that will known as:
Asshole of the Week
It’s always a worry of mine that someone will read this, eventually get back to me somehow, and have something nice to say. The thought that follows the former is, ‘have you read your stuff, man?” I have, and it’s awful. But, I’ve gotta put something out there, right? Why not my opinion like every other young and ‘inspired’ person of the world.
The random asshole of the week award goes to the random middle-aged woman in jogging pants, residing in her nifty little Jeep, lacking all of its doors and opened to the rest of the world.
I only have this one thing to say to you:
I understand it’s fun to talk on your phone (it’s what they were meant to be used for, after all), but to sit in the middle of a crowded parking lot and make a call through those disaster sirens you call speakers so everyone can hear about latest result in a series of gynecological exams to weed out whether your ‘hubby’ was unfaithful or not is UNACCEPTABLE.
There were children around for Pete’s sake.
No one cares this much about you. I promise. And, by the power vested in me by the readers of the pertinent blog, I hereby revoke your public privilege. You’re banished, so be gone, wench!
Aside from this little incident, here are a few rules to keep in mind for the road:
- Pay attention (saddling a one ton horse that goes over a hundred miles per hour has responsibility, and consequences.)
- HEY!! I said pay attention to the road! Stop reading this while you’re driving.
- Don’t forget that your brights, blinker, and pretty much every other little bell and whistle on your ‘ride’ doesn’t work unless you will it to. Use the force… of your hand and signal your next turn asshole!
- Are you still reading this while you’re driving? STOP IT!
- Getting somewhere ten seconds early will not win you the day. Slow your ‘tank’ down before you hit a school bus or something.
- Lastly, don’t be an asshole. You know who you are because you’re probably not reading this, but that’s okay because the big rims aren’t fooling anyone ya overcompensated little douche canoe.
Author’s Note:
This week’s issue of Confessions sounded more like a rant, but the work is piling on. Luckily there’s time to be gotten back on my part in the coming weeks to start actually ‘People Watching’ again, as if it doesn’t come naturally enough when your an introvert.
Don’t forget about the book giveaway on Quarterstories’s Facebook page and Check out Patreon to show your support.
Until next time, dear readers, happy trails!
Quarterstories 
Leave a Comment below