Five Random Rants.
1. It is a profound wonder to me that more people aren't in car accidents every day. I mean, yes, we have long-established rules of the road enforced by armed police, and cars that are increasingly designed for effective handling and comprehensive safety, but have you SEEN some of the people that are toodling about (yes, I meant to use that word, it fits profoundly well)? People who look as though they've turned either 12 or 103 in the last ten minutes; people who look like their Ritalin-Valium-Viagra cocktail might not be giving them that ' emotional uberbalance' they were hoping for; people who have wires coming out of every orifice on their faces, enabling them to communicate with home, office and Uranus (cheap humour, but isn't that the best kind...); and last but not least, people who have fourteen children stuffed in a five-passenger car, each holding an ice-cream cone and a toy that launches projectiles. How do these people concentrate? I won't even get started on the rearview mirror museums that they are cultivating, complete with wooden shoes, tiny plaques reading 'Aloha!' , mortarboard tassles, "Vanille Francais" deodorizers, and tiny crystal squirrels. I won't even broach the stereo systems blasting Barry Manilow, Tool, or P.Diddy ft. Josh Groban. I won't mention the onboard VCRs, the radar detectors, the under-chassis lights in festive blue and pink, or the tiny Japanese dashboard ornaments that say "Fun Time GOOOO!" every time you stop or start the vehicle. And last but not least, we'll try and ignore the lonely men flirting with the OnStar girl when they didn't need directions or a rescued key at all. The point is, in terms of mental focus and positive vehicular environment, the vast majority of the population is sorely lacking. Yet most of them trundle through life daily without incident, driving between the solid and dotted lines, and using their signals correctly, even when some poor souls look as though they hadn't used soap since the Carter Administration. I've been in my share of accidents, as have my friends and family, but it should be so much more perilous than it is now. Just take a look around next time you are out and about. The line between order and chaos is by its very nature thin, but most of us are only really a thread away from an MVA with a guy in a camper van with wall-to-wall shag and a teardrop feature window.
2. I really, really don't care if coffee is good for me or bad for me anymore. Let me state this unequivocally, so that the world can sit back and marvel at my show of brazen confidence. I have kicked the habit for a month at a time, only to dive back in wholesale with an eight-shot nonfat latte. I have tried doing one cup a day, just for kicks, to see if my desire for it would wane, only to finish off the pot I made "for everyone else" (while neglecting to tell them it was there, hidden underneath the sink, in a room no one uses). I have tried doing decaf, but found this to be roughly the equivalent of kissing without lips. If the caffeine is going to take me out, it's going to take me out. If the caffeine is going to help me, it's going to help me. If there is some secret chemical in there future-curing cancers I may one day have, well....cool. If there is some secret chemical in there that is going to result in me growing a third ear, well, all the better to rock out to my P.Diddy ft. Josh Groban. Coffee rocks. And the hotter the better, just like pool boys.
3. I really get tired of cute bumper stickers, pithy little quotes on mugs and t-shirts, and wall plaques proclaiming tidbits of conventional wisdom. I don't want to "Bless This Mess", tell the world I am a raging sufferer of PMS (via a limerick rhyming the word 'cramp' with 'champ'), or advertise my freakish need to consume chocolate. Messing up the English language in order to simulate drunken rambling is a tired device (I'm not as think as you totally lame I am!), and anything with a heart has GOT to go, whether it be a declaration of love for Bush-Cheney, Minneapolis, Nerds, Rottweilers, Obscure Martial Arts, or Todd Fields. Some of them are witty, but for the vast majority that aren't, I would consider a comprehensive ban. Everyone I know has something along these lines, so this is destined to get me some snarky feedback. But if I see another preteen girl rocking out a baby-t with "My Boyfriend is Out Of Town", I might pop...evidently your parents' brains and eyes are off on vacation, too.
4. Corners. I don't like corners. They are excessively problematic, from my vantage point. Drug deals happen on them, they reach out from coffee tables to dent my shins, they rip off of money, they get tattered on books, they dry out on sandwiches, and they house the table in your local cafe where you can't really see the jazz trio unless you crane your neck and risk spilling the house red down your shirt. They are where the spider lurks, where the fridge does not fit, where you are sent for being bad, and where houses crack like fortune cookies under an overfull carton of Mah Gu Gai Pah. Personally, I don't really embody the corner aesthetic with my natural born curves, and since shoulder pads were put on my personal no-fly zone, my clothes don't either. Let's make everything circular, and save my legs from another bruise.
5. I don't like insinuations. They render me red-faced in conversation. Just say if you think I'm nuts for having quit my job, don't say, "Wow...that was really a gutsy move. I tend to really think through my decisions, personally." Just tell me the pants don't suit me, instead of, "You must really be comfortable with your lower body.". Feel free to tell me you don't get the joke, rather than offering up, "Gosh, you really have a unique sense of humour." (and Sean, don't even think about putting that in the comments, I'll beat you silly). It's not that I don't appreciate politenesses, and that tact is something to be avoided, but come on...you and I both know what you're saying, and we'd all just feel better if you just said it.
Well, that's that for now. I'll save my feelings on ACTUALLY important things like the Electoral College, why Michael Vick makes me spit nails, and yet-another-fruity-vinaigrette for another entry.
5:30:55 PM 
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