Inspired by true events
The following is a story which has half its foundation in truth, and the other half in reality.
I'll never tailgate a driver who is doing the speed limit, but I'll tailgate the life out of someone doing 29 in a 35. The other day I was heading home, and making damn good time until I got lodged behind a late model Subaru Forester driven by a chick with short hair and thin lips who was cruising just above 25 (in a 35mph zone). My response was immediate: TAILGATE TIME! so I assumed my position 2 microns off her rear bumper. After getting settled behind her, about 9 dogs which had been previously laying down in the Subaru's back seats plastered themselves to the rear window like a gaggle of retarded sticky-pawed Garfield toys all interested in their new buddy: me. This really set me off: 'why' I asked my silent interlocutor, do people have to fit stereotypes so perfectly? Why are all Forester drivers chicks with thin lips and no interest in dudes? Why do they all have that same tired "end(less) this war" bumper sticker? And seriously, whats with all the dogs? Why do women who don't like men really like dogs? I was finally able to downshift and fly past her once I got an opening, but the damage was already done. Now I was seeing stereotypes everywhere: soccer moms in SUVs using no turn signals, angsty looking emo kids leaving their highschools, grumpy looking white dudes driving trucks and keeping an eye out for minorities, the Energy-Drink-type-guys in Evo 8s and WRXs revving their engines next to me at the stoplights...
Then it hit me... all the while I'd been picturing myself a moral crusader, a vigilante fighting the good fight against the slow and inconsiderate, but really I was just one of them! A brick in the wall, a dingleberry hanging off the ass-hair of this grand ridiculous world. Far from being the toilet paper, I was really no different than anyone else! Instantly I was awash in regret for how I had treated my lesbian sister in the Subaru. I wanted to go tell her that I supported her decision to cause a 15 car train behind her, and that while the lifestyle isn't for me, I would defend her right to do strange things with wheatgrass and enjoy 'alternative' medicines. I smiled as I cranked up the 'Mofro' on the radio and edged off the bumper of the Civic in front of me. It suddenly all made sense to me, 'hey man' I thought, 'live and let live'. 'Who am I to judge if you want to drive 10mph under the speed limit or own more dogs than an Iditarod musher.' This feeling, is this what they call love? The Mofro song was really hitting the chorus now, "...the higher you climb the further you fall" mmm, hmmm, I thought, so true. 'Aspiration is the quickest way to the top, but the fastest way to crash' I said to myself. Being a dingleberry isn't so bad... I should turn around and find that lesbian so I can apologize for my tailgating.
Just as I was about to pull into a parking lot to turn around the Civic in front of me changed lanes without signalling. At first nothing happened, I continued to stare straight ahead. But then my head started to twitch, the left corner of my mouth started to pull back towards my neck, and like that scene in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" my hippy heart suddenly grew 10x its normal size... and burst. I slammed the throttle and peeled away from the parking lot and within seconds was microns off the bumper of the civic; eyes bloodshot and Red Bull once again circulating through my veins, the Toilet Paper is back I growled!
I'll never tailgate a driver who is doing the speed limit, but I'll tailgate the life out of someone doing 29 in a 35. The other day I was heading home, and making damn good time until I got lodged behind a late model Subaru Forester driven by a chick with short hair and thin lips who was cruising just above 25 (in a 35mph zone). My response was immediate: TAILGATE TIME! so I assumed my position 2 microns off her rear bumper. After getting settled behind her, about 9 dogs which had been previously laying down in the Subaru's back seats plastered themselves to the rear window like a gaggle of retarded sticky-pawed Garfield toys all interested in their new buddy: me. This really set me off: 'why' I asked my silent interlocutor, do people have to fit stereotypes so perfectly? Why are all Forester drivers chicks with thin lips and no interest in dudes? Why do they all have that same tired "end(less) this war" bumper sticker? And seriously, whats with all the dogs? Why do women who don't like men really like dogs? I was finally able to downshift and fly past her once I got an opening, but the damage was already done. Now I was seeing stereotypes everywhere: soccer moms in SUVs using no turn signals, angsty looking emo kids leaving their highschools, grumpy looking white dudes driving trucks and keeping an eye out for minorities, the Energy-Drink-type-guys in Evo 8s and WRXs revving their engines next to me at the stoplights...
Then it hit me... all the while I'd been picturing myself a moral crusader, a vigilante fighting the good fight against the slow and inconsiderate, but really I was just one of them! A brick in the wall, a dingleberry hanging off the ass-hair of this grand ridiculous world. Far from being the toilet paper, I was really no different than anyone else! Instantly I was awash in regret for how I had treated my lesbian sister in the Subaru. I wanted to go tell her that I supported her decision to cause a 15 car train behind her, and that while the lifestyle isn't for me, I would defend her right to do strange things with wheatgrass and enjoy 'alternative' medicines. I smiled as I cranked up the 'Mofro' on the radio and edged off the bumper of the Civic in front of me. It suddenly all made sense to me, 'hey man' I thought, 'live and let live'. 'Who am I to judge if you want to drive 10mph under the speed limit or own more dogs than an Iditarod musher.' This feeling, is this what they call love? The Mofro song was really hitting the chorus now, "...the higher you climb the further you fall" mmm, hmmm, I thought, so true. 'Aspiration is the quickest way to the top, but the fastest way to crash' I said to myself. Being a dingleberry isn't so bad... I should turn around and find that lesbian so I can apologize for my tailgating.
Just as I was about to pull into a parking lot to turn around the Civic in front of me changed lanes without signalling. At first nothing happened, I continued to stare straight ahead. But then my head started to twitch, the left corner of my mouth started to pull back towards my neck, and like that scene in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" my hippy heart suddenly grew 10x its normal size... and burst. I slammed the throttle and peeled away from the parking lot and within seconds was microns off the bumper of the civic; eyes bloodshot and Red Bull once again circulating through my veins, the Toilet Paper is back I growled!
Labels: toilet paper
posted by doeman at
10:30 AM
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