To the guy who was behind me in traffic today brushing his teeth with an electric toothbrush.
Ya know, there’s a room in your house just for that purpose. Try getting your lazy ass out of bed two minutes earlier instead of endangering other motorists. The capper was when you pulled up to the stoplight behind me, opened your door, and hawked a large foamy loogie on the pavement. What class. What an ass.
How are you so certain that the driver’s seat wasn’t cut out and a clear path through the floorboard made?
I saw someone do something similar yesterday, although he didn’t need a toothbrush to work up a good juicy one. The look his girlfriend gave him rendered any further disgust on my part redundant. Not that he even noticed, most likely.
Well, what am I supposed to do with the poop? Keep it in the glove box?
Hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he lives in his car, in which case I’m just an insensitive lout.
Don’t get me started on women on the commuter train or bus putting on their blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick (it’s always the ones who wear too much and the wrong kind of makeup, too).
I feel like asking them if I should move so they can put their leg up on the seat and start shaving, too. (And secretly hope we go over a bump just as they’re doing their mascara).
To repeat the OP, “Try getting your lazy ass out of bed two minutes earlier.”
…aaaaaaaaaaand Eve owes me a new keyboard…
There’s a woman on my train who brings her Tackle Box O’ Makeup and sets up shop. It was fascinating to watch. Never missed a stroke. I suspect she’s had her shoulder and elbow joints replaced with gyroscopes and servoes. Unfortunately, she always ended this Ritual of the Face Making with the Liberal Application of Drug Store Perfume. Made my eyes water the first time I got caught in it.
I sit in a different car now.
At a local drugstore they actually sell urinal bags that you’re supposed to carry with you on trips, to save the time of actually stopping along the way. First off, I can’t imagine how one would deal with the task of doing, shall we say, a thorough job of it while seated in a car.
And that’s not all. The box features a series of small pictures to advertise situations where you might find the product useful. Mostly they have to do with camping and travelling, and the symbols include ones for cars, buses, and airplanes. Airplanes? Stop and think about that for a minute. Do they actually imagine the guy sitting in 24B, instead of walking to the head, is going to whip it out right there in his seat and let fly into his plastic bag? If so, I certainly do not want to be sitting in 24A or 24C.
If that becomes a widespread practice, it should cause a renaissance of rail travel!
Perhaps condom catheters can drop down from the overhead like oxygen masks.
Attention, this is the Captain speaking. There has been a serious malfunction in the bathroom system. If you need to take a whiz, please use the catheter which is currently slapping you in the face. If you are traveling with a small child, we suggest that you take your whiz first, and then assist the child with making wee-wee. That is all.
Preach it, sistah! Eve, you are the best…
Someone pulled out in front of me on State Road 26 West last week… they were going about 10 to 15 mph under the speed limit, and kept drifting over into the left lane and then jerking the car back. I finally got a chance to pass this person. As I did, I looked over to find some ditz putting on her makeup. Holy flying batshit! :eek:
It wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest to have looked back in my rearview to see her with her leg hanging out the car whilst she shaved. :wally
I’ve seen these before as well. The logistics of doing it in the car boggle the mind. Why would you need it for camping? You’re already out in nature, hellooooo!
I fail to see why somebody would find tooth-brushing while driving a car any more annoying than using a cell phone or eating; isn’t the danger element the most important thing here?
Nose pikcing, on the other hand…there’s a special place in Hell for all the nose-pickers who think I can’t see them just because they’re in their car. Blargh! Blech!
Yesterday (Sunday) I was stopped behind a car at a traffic light, which failed to move when the light turned green. It seems that the woman behind the wheel was sufficiently concerned about the appearance of her hair that she was repeatedly fluffing it, then taking photos of herself using her cellphone camera, and nspecting the results in the little viewer.
Well, you can’t really expect an accurate rendering from the rear view mirror, so I guess it was OK.
She was still primping long after she finally hit the gas.
I’ll see your nose picking and up you two clippings. I was in O’Hare Airport, and this couple, sixtyish or so, perfectly ordinary looking, was seated near me in the waiting area. So she stands up, gets out a pair of tiny scissors, and starts clipping the hair in hubby’s ears! And when she was done he tilted his head back and she started clipping his nose hairs!
Man, an airport can be the best entertainment in the world!
Someday, I will buy a friend a Stadium Pal. And so his wife won’t feel left out, she can have a Stadium Gal of her own.
Why interrupt a romantic moment under the stars? Next time, come equipped!
Back in the days when I road the NYC Subways I would sometimes start to think that I needed to get my ticket out because the conductor was coming to punch it. Of course, that never happens on the NYC subways and I don’t think it ever has. What was making me think that? The sound of people clipping their nails. Blech.
I believe The Lancet once had an article about a man who’d been picking his nose while waiting at the stoplight, and was rear-ended by another vehicle. He jammed his finger pretty far up there, maybe damaging his septum or something; all I remember is that it required a moderate degree of medical attention. Now that’s some embarrassing nose-picking, there.
Ah, Judith, now you’ve got me thinking “Oh, my virgin nose!” “What, you’ve never taken it in the nose before?” and snickering uncontrollably at work.
Maybe I should start reading The Lancet.
No, it would be more like, “Oh, by birgid dose!”
I have been unable to cultivate as regular a habit of flossing as my dental hygienist would like. Once upon a time she suggested that I could floss while I drove to work, if time limitation was the problem.
Um, no thanks, I think I’ll pay attention to the road instead.