Wednesday, September 25, 2013

How to Drive Like an A-hole in 10 Easy Steps

You know when you are watching a movie or television show and you think to yourself, I could be that guy. I could be Walter White. I could be The Rock. I could be that supermodel/gangster/rapper/Magic Mike dancer. You would not trade your current life for it but you could take on that role, if only you knew where to begin.

Now, I know you are the safest driver. Yes, of course you are and do nothing to thwart this concept. For example, you would never want to be an A-hole Driver. You use the vehicle for its primary purpose which is to take you, your loved ones or miscellaneous items to and fro.  You respect that car for what it is: a reliable mode of transportation versus what it is not: a weapon of mass destruction, a race car, a tank. Never mind that some use their car as a: garbage can, closet or mobile motel. It is the driving of the car that is most relevant. As you know, not all drivers are created equal.

If you wanted to drive like an A-hole, you would need a tutorial just like you would need a tutorial if you wanted to be a science teacher turned drug lord or a rapper. After living in Atlanta for 15+ years, let me be your sensei since I have in fact, learned many valuable lessons from my fellow Atlanta drivers. Here is your lowdown:

HOW TO DRIVE LIKE AN A-HOLE:

1. When you get in your car to leave your departure venue, you should make sure you have every item you need to accomplish your list of tasks while on your journey. Get your coffee, your iPhone, your mascara, your book. Get it all. Put it all in the front seat so you have easy access. Do not do anything while the car is in park. Wait until the car is in motion to start your TO DOs. While driving, the more you do, the better. Who cares if another driver shudders when they see you holding your coffee, your smoke stick, your phone and the wheel. Everyone knows you have sh*t to do! You are SOOOO busy!

2.  If you are unsure of your destination, go as slow as possible on the roadway while you figure it out. Do not pull over and consult your navigation or map as that simply wastes time. It is better to drive10 mph on the road anyway as that ensures the safety for all around you. You will make your necessary determinations soon enough. There are 10 cars crawling along behind you? Makes no difference because you can't find Betty's house! You must slow time down to a snail's pace while you search for it. Dont cut corners and use the voice prompts on your navigation either, cheater.

3. However, if you have somewhere to be than bombs away! Remind yourself that your time is a gift and no one should steal it by actually stopping at stop signs or driving cautiously through a cross walk. Those people have shoes on! They  know how to hop and scurry! And a yellow light? Seriously. Yellow is just a lighter shade of green. Press the long pedal.

4. If you are in the right hand lane and you need to cut across two lanes so you can get in the turn lane to make a left, just DO IT already. Quicker the better. If you gave the car behind you a fright as you dodged in front of them Frogger-style, well, boo boo kitty! People should be on their toes at all times. It does not matter if you opt not to use a blinker, people love surprises! Remember your friend Abigail's surprise 40th birthday party? Wasn't she smiling? Didn't she seem delighted? Exactly my point.

5. If you are in a hurry because you overslept, the rest of the world should definitely pay for that transgression. What good is an alarm clock if it does not perform? It has one simple task! So get on it to make up that time. If the car in front of you pauses to let another car in, you should most definitely honk your horn at them. F them and their courtesy! Be kind on their own time! And when I say honk, I don't mean Toot Toot Ice Cream Man! I mean Honk It Like Its Hot. Dont be a wimp, what do you think the horn is for. People should hear that horn far and wide, then they know you. mean. business. And quick bursts aren't as effective as long laying on it style. No one responds to a beep beep but they will quiver in their gym clothes when they hear the bazooka you have coming.

6. You should definitely talk on the phone. As much as possible. And don't use hands-free, unless you are a wimp. Hold that phone and chat it up. Better yet, in between breaths, whip out some text messages too. This way you are using your gift of hands, sight AND voice. You don't need to do one thing at a time because everyone knows you are the world's greatest multi-tasker. Work those activities!

7. If you dart in front of someone and they opt to honk at you well, that will NEVER DO. You must respond because its not your fault they were not being extra-gracious. Flip them off. Oh, you have a magnet on your car emblazoned with the logo of your child's school? SO WHAT. Oh, you also have the precious "My child is on the honor roll at....." sticker? Well, guess what, those other drivers are impressed with your genetically gifted offspring AND your driving prowess. And when you throw that bird gangster style at them, they will not think you are one tired and %&#(@*^@ cranky Mom, they will think you are street and they will also realize "That is a person I shall not _____ with."

8. If you dart in front of another car and they get all Eminem style on you and honk and pull up really, really close behind you, I have four words for you. Teach them a lesson. Tap on your brakes. And I don't mean tap like Shirley Temple on the Good Ship Lollypop. I mean stomp. This way, they will be caused to stomp on their brakes and spill their coffee all over their lap, smoke stick AND cell phone. HAT TRICK! Or, they will rear-end you and when they are cursing you out big time in front of the police officer, you can smile and say, "Who hit who here, Mr. Andretti?"

9. If you discover as you approach a red light, you are in the wrong lane, you should absolutely not simply proceed through the light and turn around. This is not a good use of your incredibly special and limited time. You should simply attempt to get into other lane. Oh, you will block all the cars behind you from moving forward? OH WELL. They should have left their houses earlier. Seriously.

10. If a car darts in front of you, you should definitely not say something kind and forgiving like Bless their heart! I admit, that is sweet but really, where's the personality? Where's the spice? The ZING? You would be better off saying "What the _______ you _______ (2nd blank is a word used for women who sell their bodies for money.) Extra triple bonus score if your Mom is in the passenger seat and makes a horrified face at your outburst. She is appalled but she might forget some day and you clearly taught that other driver a lesson!*

(*I have never executed activities 1-9. However, sorry Mom for that one and only time I used such language 1. in your presence 2. in the car. [the only other time was at my adult co-ed soccer game.] Double-whoops.)

Friday, September 20, 2013

Because you have already started your weekend...

I read this yesterday in a car to the airport and laughed so much and so loud, the driver thought I was 1. spirited or 2. drunk. For those of you of have not seen Kelly McLean's article on HuffPost called Surviving Whole Foods, prepare to laugh your arse off and hope you meet this girl one day.... In its entirety:

_________________

Whole Foods is like Vegas. You go there to feel good but you leave broke, disoriented, and with the newfound knowledge that you have a vaginal disease.

Unlike Vegas, Whole Foods' clientele are all about mindfulness and compassion... until they get to the parking lot. Then it's war. As I pull up this morning, I see a pregnant lady on the crosswalk holding a baby and groceries. This driver swerves around her and honks. As he speeds off I catch his bumper sticker, which says 'NAMASTE'. Poor lady didn't even hear him approaching because he was driving a Prius. He crept up on her like a panther.

As the great, sliding glass doors part I am immediately smacked in the face by a wall of cool, moist air that smells of strawberries and orchids. I leave behind the concrete jungle and enter a cornucopia of organic bliss; the land of hemp milk and honey. Seriously, think about Heaven and then think about Whole Foods; they're basically the same.

The first thing I see is the great wall of kombucha -- 42 different kinds of rotten tea. Fun fact: the word kombucha is Japanese for 'I gizzed in your tea.' Anyone who's ever swallowed the glob of mucus at the end of the bottle knows exactly what I'm talking about. I believe this thing is called "The Mother," which makes it that much creepier.

Next I see the gluten-free section filled with crackers and bread made from various wheat-substitutes such as cardboard and sawdust. I skip this aisle because I'm not rich enough to have dietary restrictions. Ever notice that you don't meet poor people with special diet needs? A gluten intolerant house cleaner? A cab driver with Candida? Candida is what I call a rich, white person problem. You know you've really made it in this world when you get Candida. My personal theory is that Candida is something you get from too much hot yoga. All I'm saying is if I were a yeast, I would want to live in your yoga pants.

Next I approach the beauty aisle. There is a scary looking machine there that you put your face inside of and it tells you exactly how ugly you are. They calculate your wrinkles, sun spots, the size of your pores, etc. and compare it to other women your age. I think of myself attractive but as it turns out, I am 78 percent ugly, meaning less pretty than 78 percent of women in the world. On the popular 1-10 hotness scale used by males the world over, that makes me a 3 (if you round up, which I hope you will.) A glance at the extremely close-up picture they took of my face, in which I somehow have a glorious, blond porn mustache, tells me that 3 is about right. Especially because the left side of my face is apparently 20 percent more aged than the right. Fantastic. After contemplating ending it all here and now, I decide instead to buy their product. One bottle of delicious smelling, silky feeling creme that is maybe going to raise me from a 3 to a 4 for only $108 which is a pretty good deal when you think about it.

I grab a handful of peanut butter pretzels on my way out of this stupid aisle. I don't feel bad about pilfering these bites because of the umpteen times that I've overpaid at the salad bar and been tricked into buying $108 beauty creams. The pretzels are very fattening but I'm already in the seventieth percentile of ugly so who cares.

Next I come to the vitamin aisle which is a danger zone for any broke hypochondriac. Warning: Whole Foods keeps their best people in this section. Although you think she's a homeless person at first, that vitamin clerk is an ex-pharmaceuticals sales rep. Today she talks me into buying estrogen for my mystery mustache and Women's Acidophilus because apparently I DO have Candida after all.
I move on to the next aisle and ask the nearest Whole Foods clerk for help. He's wearing a visor inside and as if that weren't douchey enough, it has one word on it in all caps. Yup, NAMASTE. I ask him where I can find whole wheat bread. He chuckles at me "Oh, we keep the poison in aisle 7." Based solely on the attitudes of people sporting namaste paraphernalia today, I'd think it was Sanskrit for "go fuck yourself."

I pass the table where the guy invites me to join a group cleanse he's leading. For $179.99 I can not-eat not-alone... not-gonna-happen. They're doing the cleanse where you consume nothing but lemon juice, cayenne pepper and fiber pills for 10 days, what's that one called again? Oh, yeah...anorexia. I went on a cleanse once; it was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I detoxified, I purified, I lost weight. On the other hand, I fell asleep on the highway, fantasized about eating a pigeon, and crapped my pants. I think I'll stick with the whole eating thing.

I grab a couple of loaves of poison, and head to checkout. The fact that I'm at Whole Foods on a Sunday finally sinks in when I join the end of the line...halfway down the dog food aisle. I suddenly realize that I'm dying to get out of this store. Maybe it's the lonely feeling of being a carnivore in a sea of vegans, or the newfound knowledge that some people's dogs eat better than I do, but mostly I think it's the fact that Yanni has been playing literally this entire time. Like sensory deprivation, listening to Yanni seems harmless at first, enjoyable even. But two hours in, you'll chew your own ear off to make it stop.

A thousand minutes later, I get to the cashier. She is 95 percent beautiful. "Have you brought your reusable bags?" Fuck. No, they are at home with their 2 dozen once-used friends. She rings up my meat, alcohol, gluten and a wrapper from the chocolate bar I ate in line, with thinly veiled alarm. She scans my ladies acidophilus, gives me a pitying frown and whispers, "Ya know, if you wanna get rid of your Candida, you should stop feeding it." She rings me up for $313. I resist the urge to unwrap and swallow whole another $6 truffle in protest. Barely. Instead, I reach for my wallet, flash her a quiet smile and say, "Namaste."