WHY, people, WHYYYYYY?????
This morning’s rant is brought to you by Avenue Q and the people who persist in making stereotypes seem like the general truth.
It started with the police, of all things.
Here I am, hot cup of tea in hand, I have been forced to stop drinking coffee by the kids. Gee, you chase one son up the street singing a made up song about video game junkies and zits while screaming I AM THE MOMMY PERSON!!! OBEY ME!!!! and the kids start giving you evil looks and running interference when you reach for a cup of joe. Sigh. Anyway, here I am, HOT TEA, grumble, in hand and I am on time! Kids in the car, 6:45, right on time, approaching my first red light, and all of a sudden, I hear sirens and see the red and blue berries of the cop car behind me.
What did I do? I mentally go thought my checklist. Seat belts on, check. Kids strapped in so tight they can barely get an inch of movement…or reach for the radio, check. Not on a cell phone or any electronic device, check. Why are they trying to pull me over?
But wait! He is not. He cuts off the guy in the lane next to me, zooms right past, guts thought the beginning of morning rush hour traffic making several cars screech to a halt and skid…and turn his lights off. Huh? Then he proceeds to continue on down the road like nothing happened, drinking his own cup of what had to be coffee, damn him! Both for the coffee and for the trick of getting past traffic. Grumble! It shocked me so bad I almost spilled hot tea all over my lap, which would have made for such a good time since I am in Mommy Morning Gear of hot liquid absorbing sweat pants, over-sized Loose-ID T- shirt sans bra, and an over-sized fleece jacket. So I am extra attractive this morning with my kitty cat ear hat, my glasses sliding down the side of my face, and my mouth hanging open in shock.
But it gets better, or worse, depending on how you look at it
Ever hear Dennis Leery’s I’m an Asshole, song? You know, I drive real slow in the ultra fast lane?
WELLLLL…. not fifteen minuets later I am on my way to drop of the first set of kids and low and behold, I get cut off my a chick in a white BMW, yapping on a cell phone, and doing her hair at the same time. This very pale, very blond bimbo almost clips the back of my car, and this almost takes out the front five seconds later to get in front of me and slam in her fucking breaks! ACK! I have to practically stand on the breaks to avoid an accent and then the ho-ho-ho proceeds…at fifteen miles a hour!
I was screaming over the music, the friggin La La La, Banana Split song, no less, STOP SETTING BACK MY SEX!!!!! But she kept going slow and then had the nerve to wave at me, like Thank you for not creaming my stupid ass with your slightly larger Ford! GRRRRR!!!!
I calm down, Malani is muttering in Japanese beside me, Baka, and shaking her head. Its bad when you make the kids call you an idiot in another language.
I shake my head, get over it, and drive on. Its going to be warm today, and the sun is rising and as I pull over to drop off the first set, we get the next stereotype. God save me form aggressive male drivers.
I have my hazards on as I pull up for a curb side drop off, and the open mouth breathing troglodyte shoots form around a corner, sees me, slams on his breaks, starts cursing and then waits. For all of three seconds. And I begin to pull out, he slams on the gas and almost side swipes me trying to get in front of me. But there is the threat of the car coming up beside us that makes his asshole slow down. But then the one on the side pulls a DL, Dennis Leery, cuts in front of me and then slows down! IS there a brotherhood of idiot male drivers? Assholes, I am thinking. I am surrounded by assholes, literally! Thusly encased, we make our way, at ten miles below the speed limit, to the next light. Malani looks over at me and stays, “Thank Goodness I won;t have my license for a while, I would have to have to drive in this.” Out of hte mouths of nearly teenaged babes.
Which of course leads to the next stereotype….Thug dud laid back, leaning to the side and whippin his whips. They call it Whipps cause you get whiplash trying to avoid the fools! OH! Cash money green, yaw! Or is it Sour apple green? Not sure but I know the fucking green machine was swerving in and out of traffic and I had to deftly maneuver at 45 mph in like a 2 second time peroid with no margin of error and not spilling the tea, to avoid his ass. And then bass booming, he cuts off, his hoodie pulled almost over his whole face. No wonder this asshole couldn’t see me and the three other cars he almost hit.
All this before I make it Downtown! OI!
This time Malani looks at me and asks if I removed the target from the back of the car or off of my forehead. I say noting. Otherwise I would make like she was the gremlin hanging onto my motorcycle and ring a bell so she would make the next pothole when I lobbed her butt out.
Of course the CD is on shuffle and the songs today just seems appropriate. The Pretenders Breaking the Concrete. Just in time to hit the new construction on the roads.
Baltimore had a rich Trolley and cab;e car tradition up until the 60’s. The cars went away, but the tracks remained. Next year, we are getting some kind of Nascar, Indy 500, pole position type of race. Why? Maybe people want to look at the pretty ships as the cars zoom around the city in circles. I don’t know, but because of this, they have to remove the tracks. And what are the roads downtown made of? You guessed it, concrete. Song appropriate.
So the workers are breaking the concrete, heavy machinery everywhere, and everybody and their grandmother has to stop and stare! WHY? Concrete is being broken. No one is setting up for the Second Coming! I was praing that some CHUD, remember those? Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers? No, CHUD…How about now? Well, i was hoping a bunch of them had decided to invade Baltimore and would drag some of those mouth breeders under the holes that the workers were making. Three traffic lights so people could stare like tourists.
And speaking of tourists, a whole boat load of them were strolling thought the streets like cars don;t hurt.
So it was wiht great pleasure that I dropped Malani off, her muttered Good luck, was not the music to my ears I needed, more like a premonition of doom if anything.
Of course my music had moved on to Weezer’s Dope Head. Yeah, I got a few lines out of that song for book titles! *g* Fag of the year that can kick your man’s ass, is one of them! LOL I am growing amused now, thinking of a plot for a book, has to be shortened to Fag of the year, and traffic leaving Downtown is not that bad. I relax and make it to I83 for my last drop off, and I am feeling good now. WEEE!!!! I make it to the on ramp, no problem. Make the three mile trip in less than 10 minuets and I got time to spare. I start blasting I LIKE THAT, and I blasted it too soon.
Why to semi’s and tractor trailers persist in trying to drive down really small streets that necessitate several back up and go forward attempts?
Three lights later, my get gas light is flashing, and the idiot finly inches his car past all the SUV’s on the road. Sterotype, Tractor Trailer drivers can be jackasses all over this one. He blocks traffic, he nearly sideswipes parked cars, and he had a confounded look on his face as to why everyone was beeping heir horns and screaming at him.
But the end is in site! I follow along behind Retardo Montabond, sorry but he was an idiot who ignored the NO TRUCK sighns…The are huge and red and white! OI! And I draw closer to my final destination.
Okay, my last rider gets dropped off in a rather affluent area near my home. HIS school is sandwiched between two private schools, a exclusive boarding school for girls and one even more exclusive for boys.
Sterotype? Oh, several. We’ll start by Rich People do what the hell they want and damn the consequences. Why else would you stop your friggin Mercedes- Benz in the middle of traffic, pop open your door, and pull out three screaming children all under the age of what had to be 8, and walk them into the school, tying up traffic on both lanes…and just roll your eyes at the people who are complaining. Whimper. Did she have to walk those kids to the moon? Talk about a DL!!!Were was the cop who used his flashers to run the light earlier? He probably would have given her ass a ticket. Honestly!
Next stereotype, rich people don;t know how to rear their kids without the intervention of a nanny, a manny, or someone to tell them, don;t let your kids do that. Otherwise why would you let a kindergartner play in traffic. I am not lying. The man stood on the curb and watched as the toddler toddled into traffic. Was I the only one slamming only breaks? Sheesh! A crossing guard made him go and get the kid. See? He had to be told to go get his kid out of traffic.
I was whimpering by this time. Even They Might be Giants playing on the speakers was not helping. I mean, Bird House in your Soul’s first line is, I’m your only friend, I;m not your only friend, but I;m a little glowing friend, but I’m not actually your friend, but I am. At that moment in time, the John’s were singing about my sanity…or common sense. Pick one cause they both were running scared and confused at that moment.
But I will move on, or I will have to tell more horror stories from Roland Park.
I get past the schools and I am on my way home! YES! Home, where I can pout out what tea hand;t splashed all over the car, and kick off my insulated hard bottom house shoes, Mommy morning look, remember? and climb under the safety of my comforter.
The rest of the trip was cake. I relaxed myself and was singing along to Anna Ng…on the IRONY! Next stereotype: Asian Drivers. WHY, Lord WHY! This tiny little Asian thing in a Tiny little Fit decides he cant wait for the car in front of her to move up a foot, so she drives over the curb.
Let me explain something about the Fit. The Fit is go, all right. It is so go I can put two in my living room and have them go without hitting each-other. It is a sub compact of the highest degree. They run great, wonderful millage, but they are really tiny! Last winter, in the snow storms, after the first one wet past, we lost my neighbors Fit…until Malani tripped over the snow covered curb and found it!! This is not the car in which you try to jump a curb. But she tried. The Fit almost went up on two wheels, like a circus performer (The fit is small enough for a clown car) or a stunt double on The Dukes of Hazards. Which was scary and amusing…but she came within millimeters of hitting, I no exaggeration mean millimeters, of hitting the Caddie in front of her. And she didn’t even stop to check! She had a hair brush in one hand, getting to the RED TURNING LIGHT obviously on her mind, and no fear in her heart. Cause it was one of those Old School Playa’s who stopped in the middle of traffic, opened up his door, and got out to investigate what she had done.
She must have scratched his car or something, cause after closely examining the car, one who lights worth of examining, did I mention I was less than a mile from home at this point?, cause he climbed back in, hit the gas, and went gunning after the small Asian chick. Anna Ng and I are getting old, and we still haven;t walked glow of each others  majestic presence, my ass! Anna Ng was about to get her booty smacked with a sue case! I didn’t want to see the judicial blood shed so I drove on by as Irate man was knocking on oblivious Asian girls window, notebook in hand and cell phone to ear.
It was with great joy that I pulled up in front of my house and killed the engine…right as the Avenue Q song, Everyone’s a little Bit Racist Sometimes, came on. IRONY, oh the irony! Especially  as they were singing about how stereotypes are based on fact. WHimper!
So, I dedicate this day to Dennis Lerry, Asshole
To The Pretenders Break up the Concrete
They Might be Giants Anna Ng and Birdhouse in your Soul
The DIckies Banna Splits
To Richard Vission and Static Revenger I like that
and
To Downtown Baltimore and Petula Clark Downtown
And I have to beg of the people I had to deal with this morning, STOP PERPETUATING THE MYTH! Please! Do it NOw! DO it NOW! Or…at least catch a clue before I have to get back on the roads with you tomorrow morning! Sniffle!
Flash, in hiding!
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Stephanie Burke
TheFlashcat.Net
Flamekeeper@yahoogroups.com