Hwy-167. Rush hour yesterday. HOV (to the izay!) lane.
"So, the kids have these shoes and thier birth mother doesn't make them wear them and so their feet get dirty and I say 'Dirty feet?'. I mean come on, those are feet we are talking about, not potatoes ..."

"Hmm, sound like a couple of winners. Hey, look, our exit, time to merge ..."
I find a spot and move in.

HONK!!!! - HONK!!!! -HONK!!!! -HONK!!!!

I look in my side mirror and see some cow girl driving behind me making the universal
"What's your problem" face with accomodating hands in the air gesture.

"What, you big (fat) girl (bitch)?" I yell back. "It's called driving! People merge! Guess what?!?!? The scenery changes too! Go home and eat a pie you cow!"
I then proceed to mock her dumb face back at her in my driver's side mirror.
"Huh? A der! What? Who driving? A hee dee huh-er ...."

When I've had my fill of fat-girl taunting I look over and see Hippie Chick slack-jawed and saucer-eyed looking at me. Shit, forgot she was there. This is the first emotion of mine she seen since "Ah, sure, yep, uh-huh".

"So, tell me more about your lovely children," I say.

Yesterday. Kidco. Grocery shopping.
Thinking to myself:
Just put the cart over here. Hey, look, orange juice drink. That's not like real orange juice. It's just water and powder. Or just dye. Mexican people like it a lot. I always see them drinking it at the park or buying it at stores. Look, those two Mexican guys just bought 4 gallons. Wow. I wonder if that stuff sucks as much as Chocolate Drink. A knock-off Chocolate Milk? Gross. Is Mexican guy the correct term? Are they Latins? I know it's not Chi....

"Brent!" R. Girl says boldly behind me.

"Hey, babe, what d'ya got there? Some half&half? Mmmm."

"I said your name three times and you just kept on walking. You just walked over here and parked the cart and stood while I said your name louder and louder. The entire grocery aisle turned around and looked except you!" she says.

"Really?" I ask.

"It's true," says a lady passing by.

"See? She looked, you walked," says R. I-would-have-thought-used-to-it-by-now.

"Is your name Brent, too?" I ask the lady as she walks on.

Later, dorks.
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