I don’t puke that easily, so cleaning up my kids vomit is not an issue. It’s weird, it’s like God gives you an anti-upchuck receptors for you own children.
However, once I smell my own own stomach contents the upchuck flows effortlessly. While I’m down there commode hugging, if I haven’t cleaned the toilet recently, it moves matters forward as well. The worst case is when I was staying with my Granny in Nitro when I was about 10 years old. I was sleeping on a cot in the dining room and woke up hollering vomit into my pillow and it splashing all over my face and overflowing into the floor. It just kept flowing and woke everyone up in the house. It had to be the butter flavored Crisco popcorn and Cool Ranch Doritos having an argument on who gets the last bite of overcooked fried chicken.
I would like to buy a motorcycle one day. One thing that is stopping me is that I don’t want to wave at everyone else riding a motorcycle. I’m just not that friendly. The other thing stopping me is fear of scraping my face on the pavement. Even if I’m wearing a helmet it would still not be pleasant. There are two memorable moments in my life that keep me on four wheels.
The first major memory comes from living in Hampton Virginia. My father had this co-worker that launched himself and wife/girlfriend onto the asphalt close to the beach. I remember visiting them in the hospital. The lady kept assuring me she was feeling great despite having her face covered in dried blood and her appendages encased in plaster. It was probably the little button she was pushing that gave her such high spirits.
The second major memory is when I obtained a Honda Trail Bike at the age of 15. On it’s maiden voyage I propelled myself over the handlebars into a creek. Once I landed in the creek I couldn’t feel my legs for about 5 seconds. I walked the bike back home and didn’t ride again.
So why do they wave at each other? I think it’s because they are part of secret society. To be honest, they should keep both hands on the grips. You know, the whole face pavement scraping thing.
When I was first married, I thought it would be nice to slowly introduce the spouse to some of the food I enjoyed while living in the Deep South. One night I prepared Red Beans and Rice with cornbread. I went all out and bought two boxes of Tony Chachere’s from the local Food Lion. Well after a few bites in she decided it was too spicy, and plus I forgot about her terrible acid reflux.
So what now? I had a huge pot of red beans and rice that I didn’t want all that Cajun goodness to go to waste. Well, I suffered through and consumed red beans and rice for every meal for the next few days until it was gone. Let me tell you, re-hydrated red beans are probably the most gassy. At first I thought all the farting was hilarious! But after a full day of constant farts every 5 to 10 minutes and gut wrenching gas that felt like someone was using an air compressor to inflate my large intestine, my pucker muscle was fatigued. I just wanted it to stop and so did my wife.
I was starting to leave permanent odors on my office chair from trying to hold them in. I didn’t want to kill any of the office plants or cause workman’s comp cases for my co-workers. Some lessons you learn the hard way.
But don’t be surprised if a woman yells at you for being a sexist. “What? A woman can’t open a door herself?” I saw a young man open the door for his girlfriend as she was driving his truck. Maybe it was her truck. Regardless it was an ugly truck. I’m confused…
When I do open doors for people it’s not only for women. I do it out of curiosity. Well, not really, doors are heavy, I do it because you look weak. My favorite is when you open a door for someone and they continue to ignore the fact that you did something nice for them. They either act like you are supposed to or they don’t bother looking up from their digital distraction. If they don’t look up it’s probably a good idea to shut the door so they can walk into it.
Everyone loves to brag. Whether it’s about your accomplishments or your children’s it’s all about getting the leg up on the competition. However, some people don’t even know when you are competing with them. Here’s a good way to put this to the test.
Pick out one of your friends on Facebook. Next, copy and paste one of their posts, but change out the proper nouns. Try to take similar photos, share the same status messages from other websites. However, the twist is this, you have to make your status messages better than theirs. See if they notice after a few weeks of this.
You can see how many times you almost died
You will have greater awareness and response time for all those other texters who are swerving over the yellow line. Almost everywhere I drive I have constant panic attacks because I see oncoming traffic jerk the wheel at the last minute. As I pass someone on the interstate you can see them looking down while weaving in and out of lanes. It’s a truly terrifying time to be a driver.
You have more time to eat
If you are not holding your phone, you can hold a burger or burrito. If you are a two-hand texter and drive with your knees you can eat your salad or chicken tenders with dippin’ sauces. Bonus if you have lane keep assist on your vehicle. No need for knees and two hands off the wheel freeing you up to eat monster burgers from Hardee’s
You won’t die
Probably the best benefit is you will keep living your life and not be dead. There are plenty of other things that can go wrong while driving. Do not add to the deadly mix of your terrible driving skills plus distracting technology.
Maybe it’s part of the coastal state DMV’s big plan to remove cars from the road. Why would I want to buy a car when I can purchase a moped, not need a license and never pay a cent of tax? Today was especially joyous with this champion in front of me.
I made the move to pass at my first opportunity. Dude here swerves in front of me and begins zig-zagging like a clown on a tricycle hopped up on PCP. I then revert back to my original lane and he repeats this insanity with more lane swaying. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to pass HIM. He proceeds to signal left, get off his fart can and prepare fisticuffs. I start slowing down when my lovely bride screams a reminder about my kids and herself. I apparently have more to lose than a guy more than likely headed back to his trailer after my tax dollars paid for a large alcoholic beverage.
I can understand that you need to get places. However, don’t put others’ lives at risk by not allowing others to legally pass if your method of transportation is not capable of exceeding 35mph on a 55mph road.