My sister in law hates me. Probably.

This afternoon, I called my sister in law. And yelled "Asshole!" into her answering machine. Then I hung up.

BY ACCIDENT.

And now? We are enemies. Probably. Here, let me know what you think:

I was coming back from my doctor's appointment a few hours ago (which was actually scheduled for yesterday. Awesome.), and I decided to call Annie.

She didn't answer, so I thought I'd leave a little "Hey! I miss you! Let's talk soon!" message.

BUT THEN, I got cut off. Cut.Off. And we're not talking a little he-pulled-out-and-didn't-speed-up-enough cutting off. Oh no, this van sped up, merged 2 feet in front of me, AND HIT HIS BREAKS. Then, after almost causing an effing 4 car pile up, this genius made me back up SO HE COULD PARALLEL PARK.

Since my horn doesn't work right now, I yelled "ASSHOLE!" At the top of my lungs.

...right into my sister in-laws answering machine.

I gasped, and hung up in horror.

Looking back, there are so many ways I could have handled this.

I could have followed with "...not you. The guy who just tried to kill me."

Or I could have stayed on the line, and deleted the message.

But nope. I hung up. Guaranteeing that she will hear it.

She will also hear my next message; an apology between bursts of hysterical laughter. But she will get the "asshole" message first, and if she stops there... this could get awkward. Especially at the baby shower.

What would you do if you checked your messages, and heard that from me?






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I think my body is messing with me.

(this originally posted on Thursday, but I took it down to give the post on domestic violence more time to be read. Sorry for the confusion.)

I woke up 7 minutes before my alarm went off.

I hate that.

It doesn't matter what time I need to get up, or how often I change it. I always wake up a couple minutes early, and then stare at the clock, miserably watching the minutes tick away.

(source)
I could get up, but that feels too much like surrender.

And I don't like surrender.

Especially not in the morning.

.



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Pittsburgh traffic is good exercise. For my middle finger.

I've talked about it before. A few times. But Pittsburgh drivers drive me crazy.

I used to be such a nice driver. So easy going, always willing to share the road.

And then I moved here, and quickly learned the value of the ten second honk.

If you are planning a trip to visit me, here are some things you need to know beforehand:

1. Four way stops have different rules here. It's more of a "screw right-of-way, I'm going too!" experience than anything else. Get ready to use your horn for this one.

2. Speaking of right-of-way; people here just don't understand it. If you don't stop at the green light to let the apposing traffic turn left whenever they want to, YOU will get the ten second honk/double finger treatment.

3. Watch out for the bus. They assume that since they are so much bigger than you, they can do whatever they want. I like to hold my ground (but not when Kurt is in the car, because he is a wimp, and is always worrying about things like "getting in an accident" and "dying").

4. I drive fast. I always have. And unlike Utah, you aren't going to get pulled over for it unless you are also swerving like a drunk person (in which case, you probably are a dunk person). Pittsburgh has real crime, and the cops have more to do than fill their quotas with minor violations. So that's a plus.

BUT. I cannot stand tailgaters. And people in Pittsburgh like to tailgate. When I am already going (some random number) over the speed limit, and you come up on my butt and try to force me to go faster, do not be surprised when I tap my brakes.

 (source)

And if you ignore my little warning? I may also decide to slow down gradually. Until I am going around 15 miles below the speed limit.

And to think, only minutes ago, we were flying by at 25 some random number over. Too bad you went and ruined it, native Pittsburgh driver.

So if you see me right after I get home from work, please give me a minute to calm down. Or I might bite your head off, and shove my middle finger up your nose.

(Figuratively, of course.)


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I'm linking this to my sister's meme, Small Treasures Tuesday. Because Pittsburgh traffic sure is a treasure.






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Genetic Traits

I was flipping through the radio this morning while driving home. I stopped when I recognized the opening chords to Days Gone By by Keith Urban (yes, I like country music). The lyrics stood out to me.

I'm changing lanes and talkin' on the phone drivin' way too fast. And the interstate's jammed with gunners like me Afraid of comin' in last.

Wow. Well said. I love when you hear a song and it just rings true, and you even recognize yourself (although that's not always a fun moment) and it makes you see the world a little clearer and TELL ME YOU DID NOT JUST CUT ME OFF. And oh my gosh are you REALLY going 20 mph slower than I am??!

I hit my brakes in disbelief. THE ROAD WAS EMPTY BEHIND ME. Couldn't they have waited like 2 more seconds???

I clamped down on the urge to honk my horn, since the moment had passed and I think drivers are a lot like dogs. Unless you shove their nose into the poop first, they're not gonna know why you hit them.

So I settled for yelling a few satisfying expletives at the windshield, and realized that Oh My Gosh, I am turning into my Grandmother.

My Grandma Chamberlain is this cute little lady who went to Catholic School back before we all knew what that meant (wink wink). Whose waist was 19 inches the day she married my Grandfather.

Who whenever I would say "So what?" in my snotty little 5-yr-old voice, would reply "Sew buttons on balloons, that's what!"

She is all prim and proper and obsessed with NASCAR. Yeah, didn't see that one coming, did you?

She's all ladylike until the engines start roaring- that's when her wild side comes out. She yells and curses and cheers on her favorites (I think Jeff Gordon might have replaced me in the will).

Most people who know her can't imagine it. Unless they've driven with her. Then it all makes sense. My Grandma INVENTED road rage. One time when I was 3, she took me shopping. The first thing I said when I got home was, "Momma, what does Jackass mean?"

So I come by this trait honestly (which is a funny saying. Don't worry guys- I didn't steal this genetic disposition!). I also get my short stature and the general shape of my nose from that lady. But I am not into NASCAR.

...Although if I really am turning into my Grandma, I can't make any promises.

Pray for me?



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