metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Drive or Die! If I had a flamethrower attached to the hood of my car, 5 people would have lost their lives today. Maybe more. I know the 5 cars, specifically, and they may have had passengers. Poor, captive passengers speeding along at 10 mph, or idle speed perhaps, screaming at the driver �Drive dammit. Use the accelerator, for fuck sake.� or something like that. They would have to die too, of course. They would probably gladly lay down their lives in order to rid the world of the drivers who were going 10 mph, I swear to God. I think I figured it out, though. I am supposed to be at work at 8 am. So, I think as I was flying to work at 7:55 the other schmucks on the road probably started work at 8:30 so THEY had plenty of time. But me, I was going to be LATE! So I wanted to drive 20 mph over the speed limit and THEY wanted to drive 20 mph under. But, so what. They were in my way and so, must drive or die! Drive or die! The faster I go, the better I drive. My brain sharpens and I become more aware. The slower I drive (especially when I am in a hurry) the more bored I become and my attention just drops dramatically. So, really, these people are causing my driving skills to erode and make the roadway a more dangerous place. So by killing them I would be doing the world a favor and everyone would kneel down and adore me and thank me by feeding me peeled grapes and massaging me with ylang-ylang, sandlewood and patchouli. So I finally get to work and the first phone call of the morning is a woman who, after I say the requisite �may I help you?� begins by saying (and this is a direct quote), �I have been living in this house for three months, no maybe two and half, no�.. yes, three months now, maybe a little more and the air conditioning has not worked since I moved in and the owner keeps saying he will fix it but he never does and now I have just had it because I have asthma and I just got over pneumonia last week and I can�t breathe and it�s so humid and I called the owner and he is on vacation.� At this point she paused to take a breath, for having asthma she certainly could talk in big chunks. I mean, I know people with asthma who. Speak in. little chunks. of sentences because. they have to breathe. very often. But anyway, I am sure she has asthma and is getting over pneumonia. �And my cat is sensitive to light and can not go outside and it is very hot in here and my poor cat is sick and only has one eye and can�t go out and I need the air conditioning because the cat makes my asthma worse and what can you do to help me?� I work for a county government, and my department writes and administers grants. There is really nothing I can do for this lady. I gave her the number of a community services clearing house/hotline. Maybe they can help her. I should have asked her to put the cat on the phone. It might have been more coherent. Maybe. I dunno. Maybe living with her for however long - probably 15 years - and being a one eyed cat, it is probably just as looney as she is. And I am not making this up. So, good morning. What a lovely day. I changed clothes three times this morning. Nothing I wanted to wear fits, and nothing that fits I want to wear. And I still hate my hair. So, bleah. I have decided instead of the middle finger, I will now use the ring finger for all my �flipping off�. That way people will say, �Why did you flip me off� and I will say, �No, it was the ring finger. The Ring Finger. That�s all.� and they will say, �Oh, OK� and never really know I was using the ring finger to do the duty of the middle finger. Hah. But what if I give the ring finger to a cop and he thinks I gave him the middle finger and he arrests me for a broken taillight and refusing to yield the right of way and killing thousands with my flamethrower, all trumped up charges, and I�ll be like, �no it was the ring finger.� and he�ll say �Tell it to the judge.� then this diary will save my life by showing that it really was the ring finger and not the dread middle finger and I will be released. But then they will re-try me because the intent was the same as the middle finger and there will be a big debate as to whether the law covers the specific act or whether it also covers the intent and books will be written and classes and seminars held to figure it all out, and I will die a broken woman in prison with a new friend named Butch but that�s OK �cause she treats me right. And just before I die they will tell me I am free and vindicated and it will be expunged from my permanent record and it�s really all OK. And I will smile and give them all the ring finger, except for Butch because she is my soul mate. Yes. So. Ring Finger it is. 9:13 a.m. - 2003-06-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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