Things I’ve observed while commuting

  • There was a very dirty minivan whose owner adorned the rear window with the message “I’ve washed it twice today. I give up.”  On both sides of that, in a different script, was written “TRY HADRER.” In the lower right hand corner of the window, the word “HARDER” was written in very small print of the same handwriting as the misspelling, then scribbled out. I’m highly amused by this. Someone washed a car twice on a day that was very windy, after a dry spell, not realizing that the high winds and dust in the air would result in the damned thing getting dirty again, and was so frustrated by this experience that they felt they had to defend their dirty vehicle in writing. Then someone else was so perplexed by the spelling of the word ‘harder,’ and so determined to get in their shot at zinging the driver that they did a correct test run, discarded the results of that, then got it wrong. Twice.
The driver, no doubt, was looking really badass about forty seconds prior to this happening.

The driver, no doubt, was looking supremely badass and making great time up until about forty seconds prior to this happening.

  • I’d estimate that about 85% of people who drive a Ford Mustang made after about 1980 are (or at least drive like) assholes. This observation is tempered by many hundreds of hours spent behind the wheel, in combination with interaction with a diverse sampling of Mustang drivers throughout the years (including a few skilled, safe drivers who are perfectly pleasant individuals). If you happen to be reading this and are a proud member of the Mustang-owning community, don’t worry, I’m certain you’re in the fifteenth percentile.
  • For the shy, belting out vocal accompaniment to a song on the radio is preferably done with windows firmly in the ‘up’ (and ‘heavily tinted’) position. As a corollary; I’m easily embarrassed.
  • A couple of weeks ago, I saw a woman with, as best I can describe it, a hairdo like an exit wound. It was tight and perfectly restrained over the entire surface of her head; plastered down uniformly, with not a hair out of place. Then, abruptly, and seemingly without reason, it seemed to erupt from the side of her head into a gel sculpture of immaculate composition, bursting from a central point that makes a mockery of ponytails. I could have stared at it for at least another mile, mainly wondering how much it cost, how much gel was required, how long it took, why it was chosen, and most importantly, what sound it would make if someone were to smack it with a large book. I’m thinking it might be a loud crackling sound, followed by a thud when it broke off and hit the ground.
  • The idea of highways having a ‘fast lane,’ which is to be used only when driving faster than the rest of traffic is completely and totally lost on a proportion of the population that I would guess to be nearing 40%.
Strangely, used cars in the Dallas area display almost no wear on this particular part.

Strangely, used cars in the Dallas area display almost no wear on this particular part.

  • Likewise, a similar proportion of cars on the road appear to have been made without turn signals. Manufactures should make note to correct this oversight with a recall.
  • There’s an Isuzu dealership with a giant electronic billboard prominently featuring the dancing baby that ushered in the era of internet memes. At the rate they’re going, they’ll soon discover Zero Wing (“Somebody set up us the bargain,” and “All your truck are belong to us!”). This serves as anecdotal evidence that once something’s been loosed upon the world via the internet it’s never really dead; it merely lurks in the shadows of subculture, bobbing up into the light for brief glimpses of the climate, awaiting its triumphant return upon the global stage as it becomes delightfully ‘ironic’ or ‘retro’ to the fad-hungry masses. Or there’s at least one person in the marketing department at that dealership who isn’t exactly what you’d call ‘familiar with current pop culture.’
  • Upon entering my neighborhood last week, I saw a mobile blood donation center with my friend’s picture on the side. When I mentioned it to him via text, and commented on how I was intimidated because his image on the bus was both giant and flexing, he responded with, and I quote, “You can’t front the eight foot Robbie the Rob! Boosh!” This is pretty typical of our interactions, but what stands out is the final onomatopoeia. It is now one of my many (arguably pointless) missions in life to ensure that the word “boosh” works its way into the national global lexicon.
Boosh!

Robbie Rob says "GIVE US YOUR BLOOD! BOOSH!"

  • Listening to radio (terrestrial or satellite), can be a frustrating endeavor when you’re picky and attention deficit. Whoever invents in-dash Pandora is my new personal hero/deity.
  • There remains a decent variety of very expensive and occasionally exotic cars amidst the compact economy cars and industrial vehicles. Apparently, someone’s doing well in this economy… or they’re just, in true Dallas fashion, holding tightly to the last bastions of upper-class appearance while possessing more debt than the ‘poor’ can fathom. Probably a mixture of the two. Reminds me of a joke involving a talent agent and a family.
  • This morning, I encountered the biggest sideburns I’d ever seen on anyone, living or dead*. I thought the owner should have them carefully removed and bronzed as the absolute monuments to facial displays of testosterone. Or made into a hood ornament.

*…until Google steered me towards the picture you see below, which almost made me vomit in surprise and disbelief. (As an aside, don’t startle me unless you have a mop.)

"But it supports me head when I've been drinking!"

"Shave?! But... it supports me head when ah've been drinking! ...and ah loike the way it tickles me eyelids sometimes."

BOOSH!

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~ by tazehim on February 13, 2009.

2 Responses to “Things I’ve observed while commuting”

  1. […] Things I’ve observed while commuting « Beer and Skittles […]

  2. […] “WHAS ME PUTO” scrawled across the back window in dirt. While it’s no “TRY HADRER,” the sheer anger behind it outweighs any lack of spelling or humor. I couldn’t see the […]

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