Tooling down the freeway on my way home this afternoon I noticed a car in the left lane in front of me with it’s blinkers on, hoping to merge into my lane, and getting the short shrift from the other drivers in front of me. My one rule while driving is ‘use your blinkers’. I have no sympathy for someone who’s weaving in and out of traffic and not using turn their turn indicators.
Anyway….this person was hoping to merge in and wasn’t having much luck. As they neared me I slowed down to allow a gap into which they could merge. They did so, and waved “thanks”. That, I think, is a wonderful thing to do when someone cuts you a break, doesn’t act like a jerk, and actually shares the road. That “wave” that perhaps only one in ten people do is akin to when truckers flash their brake lights at you because you flashed your headlights to let them know that they can merge into traffic in front of you. It’s a reward for the just and an impetus to keep on doing the right thing.
I personally don’t think enough people do the “wave”. Perhaps it’s a sense of entitlement, that some people believe they actually own the road, and that somehow forbids them from thanking a helpful stranger. Perhaps today’s society has just become cold and crass, and waving a quick “thanks” doesn’t even enter into the equation. Or perhaps it’s a combination of ignorance and self-centeredness that certain people just don’t believe in a friendly wave when it’s due.
Whatever the cause, a quick wave certainly makes that long daily drive home a far more tolerable experience.
The “wave”. Do it today. Make someone feel good.
Has anybody ever asked what the purpose of the “Y-Front” on mens underwear is for? I’ve been wearing these things for who knows how long, yet I’ve never had a use for the slit in the front of my underwear.
I can see the validity of this flap if I was wearing….oh, say a codpiece or a full suit of body armor, but for modern living I see no purpose to this package access portal. Heck, curious one day, I decided to test this emergency hatch out, and to say that it was awkward and uncomfortable would be an understatement.
First off, you have to contend with overlapping layers of fabric, then you have to maneuver, thrust, and adjust, making it appear to your stall buddies as if you’re having a particularly rambunctious thumb wrestling match with a squirrel secreted away in your pants, then you have to put up with the pain of hanging out at an abrupt, pinching angle through a hole that’s two sizes too small.
Too much information?
So I ask again, is there any real purpose to the Y-Front? I have this fear that I’m the only one not in on the joke, and it’s weighing me down like Fonzie’s unrequited love for Pinky Tuscadero.
Please…what’s the point of this?
It was a hot one this weekend. With temperatures in the low 90′s, it was all I could do to step outside into the backyard and raise the umbrella over the patio furniture before collapsing in the nearest chaise lounge. The cat refused to follow me outside, and my goal of getting to Mt. Baldy was squashed.
Needing some liquid refreshment, Karin and I wandered into our local grocery store to pick up water, soda, and juice (and beer for the small party we were throwing Sunday eve). Outside, teetering dangerously forward, threatening to release its built-up potential energy upon anybody foolish enough to dare approach too close, was this statue of a biped of unknown origin. Utilizing a circulating water system, bluish water would flow into what I interpreted as the “mouth”, drain through various plastic orifices, gurgling its way trough the innards of my plastic pal, before falling out the bottom and beginning the journey anew.
What I thought of as I did my best impression of Lebowitz was, “Somebody gets paid to build these things? Man, am I in the wrong profession..”
Oh, and “evian” spelled backwards is “naive” (just in case you were never aware of that ‘lil fact).
I’m glad that there are people in this world like this. They plaster their cars with bumper stickers so the rest of us don’t have to…
I had a nightmare (if you can call it that) last night.
There I was, a miniscule version of myself, walking around in my own mouth. I was traversing the vast expanse of my molars, sliding gracefully down my canines, and trudging over my slick gums as I slunk in awe under the etherial arches between my teeth. My bicuspids were islands, set deep into my pink flesh, each with moats of spittle pooling together, surrounding my enamel with a protective ocean barrier. My lower incisors were massive flat towering sheets of ivory, stretching high into the atmosphere, forming a jagged, shadowy skyline in the heavens.
On my tongue, in place of taste buds was an uncountable, rolling carpet of Curly heads (the guy from the Three Stooges). They spotted me and in unison said, “it’s not what you do, but the way that you do it.”
And then I woke up.
Ever have one of those dreams?
One of the more disturbing animated .gifs I've seen in a long while...
