Thoughts from a drive home

I left work about 15 minutes later than usual. As I went down the staircase, I couldn't help but think I should be paid overtime. Oh wait, I am on salary. Damn the man!

My brain was buzzing along last night as I cut through the city on the way home. One billboard caught my attention. It had a picture of a young girl with a message "Too young for a baby. Think adoption". How nice. Where do those young tramps hang out so I can go get me some? Maybe if I call the adoption agency they will tell me...

It felt like I was behind too many responsible drivers too. These people would not dare go above the speed limit. If the light changed to yellow, they hit their brakes. They slowly accelerate from a red light. Man, were they driving me nuts!

Yeah, I go a couple a little faster than the speed limit but I don't weave in and out of traffic like a mad man. Instead, I flow between lanes, helping traffic go smoothly. You will rarely see me moving back and forth through traffic. Then again, you will rarely see me moving when I drive. I never look at the people in vehicles next to me. Too many scary people.

I did like the "young tough" I saw yesterday. I will call him Crotch Boy. This kid was wearing his gold out, baggy jacket unzipped, black hat, pants slung very low trying to look all badass. I mean these pants were low. The crotch on these things was done by his knees. How the hell do you walk with those things on? Does that mean the waist of the pants in barely covering his ass? If he was walking away from me would I have been calling him Ass Crack Boy? The look in Crotch Boy's face was that of a kid who just wanted to look tough. I think Crotch Boy is truly a wuss.

With all the major construction going on downtown with the freeway system, I must say I do like the roller coaster temporary roads they have built. You go up a slight slope, then down and slightly to the left. Then it breaks down some more and to the right and then back left again and up. They are perfect for any car that has great handling and acceleration. Though the speed limit says 40, I like to buzz through in my Mustang at 60. It's great.

Later on at the bar, I saw three hipsters that cracked me up. It was something I hadn't seen before. These guys were early 20s, mid at the most. They ordered 2 beers and a Captain and Coke. H gave them a total, but they said they wanted to pay for it separately. Huh? You can't buy a round for your buddies? One guy even kept screwing the cap back onto the 16oz bottle. He would take a drink and the screw the cap back on every time. Of course, they came back a couple times. Never did see them leave a tip either, though Betty Crocker the cook said she knew them and they would take care of H.

Otherwise the scene at the bar was rather quiet. No Gambino. No DJW. I wonder if Al heard my music request that I submitted to Scuba Steve....

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