Just Another Rant

I had this whole week planned out for the blog. I was going to post every day, give my readers something to cheer about. I even had the story ideas lined up. It was going to be great and my name would be spoken with love.

Then I tried to go home yesterday and my whole plan went to shit. It went to shit because the Texas Rangers suck and try to bring the whole town down with them.

Everyday I go home to pick up my daughter. It is imperative that I make it home on time. Because if I don’t, I get a lecture from my babysitter. I hate these lectures. It makes me look like an ass. I have gotten lectures on how I dress my daughter, what I feed her and when she popped another kid, you better believe that was a lecture. And the worst lecture is being late to pick her up. Look, I know that I need to be on time but there are some things out of my control.

I work across the street from the ballpark and there was an afternoon game yesterday. I didn’t see it on my schedule and totally forgot. Normally, I keep track and leave early to beat the traffic. I got into my car and got onto the exit for my freeway. There was going to be trouble because I was way farther back than I usually am.

This is so not good. And when traffic is like this let us then please introduce Mr. Jackass. He comes in many forms and each form pisses me off like no other. Look, we are all trying to get somewhere so how about a little cooperation.

He first showed up by driving on the shoulder of the road to pass everyone. I have to pick up my daughter and you don’t see me doing this. I’m going to get a lecture and at least I have the piece of mind not to be this guy. If you are this guy, suck my balls. Because what happens is that you pull out onto the shoulder, go 10 cars ahead until you realize that there is a broken down car in the lane and you have to merge again.

Don’t get all pissy with us because we won’t let you back in. You have chosen poorly Indiana, suck it. But this never happens because then he starts honking and the window starts to roll down. I can see this all and all I want to do is gun my SUV up the back of your crappy little Olds. It would be so worth it, just once to do this.

So we inch on by each getting cussed out as we are practically molesting the bumper infront of us. He eventually gets back in, goes around the stranded car, and then once again jumps on the shoulder. I hope he wrecks. I hope he wrecks and breaks his leg. I hope he wrecks, breaks his leg, and is uninsured. Seem harsh? I don’t care.

Traffic is going no faster and I am trying to figure out what I am going to tell the babysitter. Should I go with the classic I got abducted by the Mexican cartel or should I stick to the truth.

As I am mulling this over in Post-Baseball hell when I see something that honestly I don’t know how to feel about. I saw a guy climbing out the back window of his buddies pick-up truck. This window can’t be more than 12 by 12 and I have no idea how Houdini pulled this off, but he did. I have no doubt he was either drunk or high on peyote. I’m guessing the first because the next thing he does once he is in the back of the pickup is open 2 coolers full of beer. He pops open a lawn chair in pure redneck fashion and begins to drink while we are all driving.

This is the kind of shit that gives Texas a bad name. Drunk guy drinking beer in the back of a pickup on the highway. Just give him a mumu and a tornado and the cliché is complete. But he looks to be a kind man because he then begins to throw some beer into open windows of passing drivers. He had to give away about 15 beers this way.

This is where I am torn because that is often neighborly of him. We are all hating this so at least he is trying to make it more enjoyable. We are going about 10 miles an hour and people are getting drunk right there in traffic. Do I really want Drunkie McCrash Test driving right in front of me? I don’t even have time to answer this question because with each second this guys aim for car windows is getting worse. It’s when the beer smashes on my bumper that I decide that I hate him. His beer is probably tainted by urine. But he doesn’t stop and soon some cars are pulling onto the shoulder to bypass this guy. Peckerhead.

Traffic finally picks up and now we are going over 20. We have bypassed school zone speed so we should start seeing some results. I have 15 minutes to get to my daughter’s and I’m a good 30 minutes away without traffic. Then we stop. Again. Shit Shit Shit.

Someone had a car wreck. But I wouldn’t even classify this as a wreck. Some is pulled over with another car in front of them and they are checking bumpers out. Everyone now has to rubberneck like it is the once in a lifetime free porn channel. Comeon, there is no reason to stop here, let’s at least hit 50. I AM RUNNING OUT OF TIME!

Ok, we finally make it past it and we are off and running. It looks like it is going to be ok. I might only be 10 minutes late which is enough to say a very quick “Sorry” then get the hell out of dodge. I will mutter something about traffic and then flash the pearly whites hoping that this will melt her Ms. Frow exterior.

No luck because when I make my exit, finally, I get stopped at the light. The light is green. No one is moving. I can’t figure this out. When I see what it is, that is when I decide that today’s whole blog will be dedicated to this piece of shit.

The second car in line wasn’t paying attention. What the m-fing hell is this all about. I see this all the god damned time and it drives me up a wall. It is worse than the Lotto players, the movie line can’t deciders. Mr. Short attention span beats them all for jackass of the year award.

There should be no reason at a light where only two cars get through because you are to god damn busy checking your fingernails. If you were doing open heart surgery, we could talk. If you are to involved in your Hanson sing along you should have your license revoked.

And yes, it was a woman. I don’t mean to imply that this only a woman problem because I have seen this in both Mr. And Mrs. Incarnations. But this time it was a woman. So I miss the light.

And I miss the next one because guess who is the second car in the pack dancing to the tunes of I Have No Consideration. She must have decided that all the horns honking were only the beat to her Ricky Martin Samba Love Feast. From the very bottom of my heart and with all the feeling I can portray—I hate you.

By this time, I’m a good 30 minutes late picking up my daughter. I called during one of my many, many stops and got nothing but the disappointed sigh.

I finally show up, a good hour and a half drive later and try to grab my daughter while spewing apologies.

She will have none of it. I’m getting the lecture and all I can think of is how I hate Ranger Baseball because of this. If they were winning, maybe I could forgive. But you cannot expect me to now that I’m getting an earful on how to be a responsible parent and how if I kept a baseball schedule next to my desk, I could plan better. My whole parenting style is being called into question and I have no defense. The cute/charming smile is not working. The sad dog eyes are not working. The baby crying because she is hungry is not working. I am actually praying that she bits some kid to take the pressure off me. But that would only result in another lecture.

It’s time for me to zone out, to mentally remove myself from this situation. And what’s the first thing I think of? Baseball statistics. I disgust myself.

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