As I was driving home from class today (one hour drive to school, one hour of class, one hour drive home. Waste of time? Worth it? Comments?) I started to wonder: Why is it that it always seems to be quicker getting back from somewhere than going? Then I realized that the jack off in my lane was, at a green light, backing her Really Expensiveâ brand SUV down the lane, down a line of traffic, to get in the back of the right hand lane, as I was speeding toward her. Luckily, this jackass managed to avoid getting hit, and finish her extremely retarded manuever with SUV and body still in one piece. I tried to rationalize for this poor soul, born with no brain, that perhaps she truly needed to get into the shopping strip that was on the left, but NO! she continued on past, to the next left hand turn! LIKE SHE COULDN’T HAVE MERGED ONCE TRAFFIC WAS MOVING!!! MORON!! IDIOT!!! Someone get me a sedative. ::lies down, compress on forehead:: Oooh, midwest drivers. Am I the only one who pays attention to what I’m doing? Am I the only who truly knows how you’re SUPPOSED to behave on the road? Am I the only one out here who will not cause five or six wrecks because of my ignorance? Perhaps, just perhaps, this is all a little game, and I am a chess piece. All these other drivers are soulless, clueless automatons, sent to confuse and constipate me. But anyway, why does it seem like it takes longer to get somewhere than it does to get back?
We are the children of the Eighties. We are not the first “lost generation” nor today’s lost generation; in fact, we think we know just where we stand - or are discovering it as we speak.