Left Lane Losers
Today as I drove the love of my life, my shiny black Mazda 6 up the local highway on a mission for my boss, I finally snapped.
I got behind yet
another bufoon who seems to think that the left lane is there just to "go out for a drive". This person in their 1986 Ugo refused to go any faster than the traffic right next to him, thus creating a wall of slow moving traffic going only thirty miles an hour -
In a fourty-five zone! After five miles, I couldn't take it anymore - traffic was backed up behind me as far as I could see. So, as a last resort, I waited until the other lane was empty, and I passed him.
He of course couldn't
stand that I was passing him, and blared on his horn the whole time I passed him. After all, how
DARE I actually GO, the speed limit! What was I thinking?!?
People like that shouldn't drive. If you're going to go in the left lane, then
PASS people!
I have to go.
COPS is on, and they're showing a car chase where the dirtbag driving the fleeing vehicle is about to get a beatdown.
At The Crossroads
The good thing about my job is that some days are like today was. A day partly filled with monotonous work that I actualy enjoy doing simply because I can listen to tunes and think.
As I sat there in my leather office chair typing away on a website, I thought about what I've been doing lately with my life and realized that I'm at a crossroads. A fork in the road where I must choose to go left, or go right, and even now as I sit here I realize that I've been here for some time. I just didn't realize it.
In front of me are two paths, each one distinctly different from the other. One path is a familiar road that I've been down before. It may or may not branch out into something else. The other road is not just a simple choice - it's a life changing decision.
Do I leave my past for my future, or do I relive my past to
save it?
Right now I'm not sure which road to choose, but I do know one thing.
I can't go back where I came from, and I can't stay here forever.
Something I've Never Heard
While meeting tons of people at my friend's wedding, I had a sudden thought.
I've never heard someone say
"Hi, my name is (insert name here), and I'm from North Dakota." Think about it. When have you
ever heard someone say that they're from North Dakota? All I know is that
I've, never heard it.
So, if you're reading this, and you're from North Dakota, send me your address.
Someday I will shake hands with a native from your land.
Dressing For Boredom
It came to me while I sat at my assigned table at the reception, watching my fellow reception attendees cut up the floor while the DJ played various tunes designed to make even a 90 year old woman dance like a slinky in an earthquake.
I hate weddings.
Now don't get me wrong, weddings are okay...it's just some parts of it that I don't like. I don't like all the special "singing", I
hate wearing a suit, and I hate receptions.
It's amazing watching two people get married. Heck,
I want to get married one day, but to me, one of the most boring parts is the reception.
People sit at tables for hours on end sometimes with people they don't even know talking about unimportant things while annoying music blares across a portable dance floor.
I sat at a table with one person that I actually really do hate. My sister was there too. (I don't mind her.) Two other people that I haven't seen since I was eight. (I found out that I haven't been missing out on much) And two other people that I really define as...well...let's just say that these guys are what give the rest of us guys a bad rep. (That's as nice as I can put it.)
I was at this place from 6:30 until 11 at night. I hated it. I hate dancing. I have the dancing prowess which is the equivalent of a drunk giraffe. I can't stand it. My friend (The bride's brother) kept telling me to ask one of the bridesmaids to dance. There's only one problem with them. I can't stand
any of them. I knew all of them, and all of them were more self absorbed than a super-squeegee. I tried to talk to all of them, just to say "hello". That's when I was reminded that I'm not wrong. They really ARE
NOT worth talking to.
So, needless to say, I don't enjoy receptions. Granted, one day I'm going to have to be a Best Man and have to attend another one, and granted, when I get married my fiancee is going to want one, and I'll give her the reception of her dreams just to make her happy, but for the record, when it comes to receptions, I'd rather be windsurfing with John Kerry.
Really, I would.
Back In The Saddle
Fear not my loyal blog readers, for I have returned from the State of Sunshine, and after a wonderful ten full hours of sleep last night I am ready to blog again!
So, to tackle the questions you've all been emailing me, I've decided to answer those forthwith:
1.) The trip was great. I've learned that I love to fly, that my parents will stop at
any hole-in-the-wall tourist trap, and that I hate to go to weddings.(more on the last point in my upcoming post "Dressing For Boredom".)
2.) Yes, it was great to see my friend get married and to hang out with her brother. (one of my best friends, and the
funniest person I have ever met.
3.) No, I did NOT bring back any souveineers. To me, Souvineers are worthless doo-dads that waste space on my already limited shelving space. Do I really need another coffee mug? No, I don't think so.
Anyway, The trip was fun, and I would fly everyday if I could. Nothing quite like breaking through overcast clouds to see the sunrise on the horizon at 30,000 feet.
I could see my house from up there.
Really, I could.
Back
Well, I'm back.
and i'm tired...
Rest assured, I will post tomorrow!
:)
