I imagine this is what hell is like.

Traffic, traffic, traffic! Oh! What a slapstick comedy you are! If I had a nickel for ever traffic jam I’ve ever been in… well I’d have a lot of nickels. There are several reasons for traffic. Ummm, wait… No. There aren’t. There are really only two reasons for traffic. Badass accidents and stupidity. Badass accidents can be excused (even though most of the time they’re caused by stupidity).  However, I would venture a guess that about 98% of traffic is caused by stupidity. Let’s see:

  • Traffic due to “volume” of cars–bullshit way of saying, “people need to learn how to merge in and out of lanes correctly and use their fucking blinkers” :)
  • Traffic due to an accident (of the un-badass variety)–bullshit way of saying, “Stop looking at the fucking fender bender Pa Kettle, and move along!”
  • Traffic due to a cop on the side of the road–this one really burns my nuts with a taser… With all due respect to police (of whom I have the highest regard), why in the blue fuck, do you guys have to sit on the side of the road and slow down traffic? Notice, however, that they’re never around when douchebag Jimmy and his Honda Civic, are doing 110 down the interstate.
  • Traffic due to construction– again, another one of those, “Hey asshole! :) Don’t wait till the last fucking second to get out of the lane that’s now closed! Do it back where the sign first says it, a quarter of a mile ago!” My favorite thought about the people that do this (other than their impending expulsion from this mortal coil) is the fact that they actually believe that they’re getting somewhere faster, as if cutting into traffic 1000 feet ahead of where they should have merged magically creates a lane in which their car can fly, they’re served tea while they sit back, and the car steers itself in the sky. Dick.

Sometimes while I’m sitting in traffic I like to do things (No, not that… You nasty readers, you). Sometimes I like to “pretend” to scream and yell and hit my steering wheel as if out of anger because of the traffic, and then look around to see if anyone’s watching me. Other times, I like to “let” people cut me off and then playfully give them the finger with the fiery hate of 1000 suns glistening through my eyes. Other times I just like to cry, playfully of course. And yet other times still, I like to pinch my tits and make obscene gestures to passers by. That’s always a fun one.

So if you see me in traffic, and I’m a mopey Mabel–maybe you could do something nice for me… Ladies, WOW (Whip ‘em Out Wednesdays) are everyday for me. Guys, I’d appreciate a beer.

How do you deal with sitting in traffic for extended periods of time, without killing yourself?

Thanks, in advance, to the four of you who will read this. Your patronage is appreciated.

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