Driver Education

There are many things that I aspire to be in my life if only I had the time and conviction. One such aspiration? Driving Instructor. I have been a motorist, a pedestrian and a bicyclette handler in several major cities in Canada and throughout Europe. Ahhhhh, Europe...I love those wine drinking, seafood swilling, dope smoking, syphilis soaked(that ones for Italy), brilliant bicycle riding genius's. They of all the places I've roamed, know how to work together in their travels. Cars and pedestrians live side by side in a world of peace and prosperity. Cyclists understand their role and cars abide by the rules of the road. Sometimes it seems as though there are no rules in place, but by golly it works! I despise the drivers in this country and now in this city. You are all moronic, self absorbed single celled organisms with too many toys to play with. You are operating a tonne of metal fury going speeds designed for those with attention spans. Please put down the eyelash curlers, the meat ball subs and the goddamned fucking Christ on a cracker CELL PHONES. You should have your eyes on the road, your mirrors and the other million people surrounding you. Multitasking is not something human beings are capable of. Seriously. Your brain stops functioning for a millisecond when you switch your attention and can return just as quickly but you cannot, contrary to popular belief, do more than one thing at a time...it's a scientific fact. Science also tells us that lack of focus+sonic speed+one thousand pounds of metal=badness. Wait, that's math. Anyways, I nearly got hit three times in one day, three times...and I mean nearly. When a few particles of your soul leave your body out your ass three times in one day, we have a problem. All three times were lack of driver concentration and understanding road rules. Who is training these people? They should be shot in the face and disallowed a funeral for all of the people they've maimed and killed over the years for granting these assholes a licence. Who does not understand the concept of "right of way"? Driving has to be one of the most pleasant and simple things in the world to grasp. If you cannot back up without hitting something, drive with both hands while watching your surroundings or your anxiety over the sheer act of motoring consumes you...give it up. Taxis, transit or your own two feet are my recommendation. This numbskullary has gone too far. The only reason I am still alive is because of my ability to pay attention. Shouldn't it be both our responsibilities though? If both of us were focused on the task at hand, wouldn't that avoid say, every single unwanted outcome? The next time my asshole parts and little pieces of me escape in fear of fatality, I will kick off a mirror screaming with reckless abandon, "It was you or me, motherfucker!!!"

It's Not Who But When

So it's been decided. No longer will I search, scour, sleuth out the "one" for me. No more Dream Man. No more Mr. Right. No more soul mate who will complete my very existence and make life forever enduring and bearable. Just one day, I may be walking down the street on a snowy afternoon or reading a book on a park bench watching puppies play with their negligent and baby ridden owners, and it'll happen. I will be ready to settle. I mean, settle down.
Whoops. Truly though, some dude will pass by when my brain and heart have met each other and decided to make friends and that will be that. No hunting, longing or failure. It'll just be timing and maybe that's the truth. Maybe it's not the perfect dream boat with the toned body, heart of gold, and wit to match his washboard abs that will catch my eye. I will just be ready for commitment, stability and love. I tend to skip steps. I skip because I don't believe those I skip with are worthy of anything more from me. That is somehow such an absurd and awful thing to admit for the skips I step are often the only ones that make any difference and matter the most. What's even worse is the value I place on odd things over my own body and safety. I was "obligated" into bringing this dude home the other night. His friends had ditched him and his only option was to come and crash(oh, there would only be sleeping) at my abode or...sleep on a stoop. It's funny I didn't see the third option at the time...I don't give a fuck where you rest your fatness cuz I'm going home to eat pizza in my awesome apartment and pass out with a smile and pepperoni on my lips...I was hungry. Sigh...so being the weaker sex in all the wrong fucking ways, I trudged him home with me. What I learned though was quite the valuable lesson...I place no standards on personal space. It was an odd lesson cuz I always felt that entering the Rhandi bubble took time, effort and lots of flowers. Not so. I was more traumatized by this fat and hairy backed beast sweating on my freshly washed blankets with his hippy swass and touching his mouth to my water bottle with his...gulp...mouth, than I was by his constant advances towards my tits and ass. His inept persuasions to remove apparel fell so short that I'm pretty sure I heard his penis retract into his body...not that it had far to go and that was the end of that. I sent him on his way the next day with "Well, you've annoyed me for long enough, time to go," and the lesson was indeed learned-Love and Respect Thy Self regardless of anyone else and their conception of my ebbing kindness. Also, I've seen porn stars, honest to goodness PORN STARS wear condoms and you're telling me that I don't have enough self respect and body consciousness over safety to allow you to perform(I'm sure) delightful moves you've learned from the Yukon on me sans rubber? WHO DOESN'T WEAR A CONDOM IN THIS DAY AND AGE? I mean seriously, you're a dude. You're whole existence stems from you're level of bonerdom and you don't just have them with you? This was only discussed by the way, as I was stalling and hoping for his brain to just shut down and leave me alone. I mean, no chub means minor brain function, correct? You know like amoebas in the split second their not consuming protein? It sounds like I hate men. I do not. I learn about myself by way of their stupidity. I am also coming to terms with the fact that they are all the same and that's ok cuz I don't need to be a part of it. After a sleepless night of hiding my valuables and thinking about hygiene, I woke with a profound appreciation for my physical self and soap. Surely invented by a woman.

Butter is Better

I've decided failure is my greatest fear. Duh.....but not even failure, but the fear of it which motivates me. I like to think that things happen decidedly and without my contribution. Sometimes though, I get these sinking suspicions that I have more control than previous thought led me to believe. For the first time in a very long time I was challenged. It's been some time so I was unsure of these new and dreadful churning's in my gut. I felt lost, and immediately angry. Why is the anger my one and only fallback position? I could be chased by bears and I believe that I would turn and glare at them as the smallest of the three mauled me as his play thing. Of course there'd be three, that's how bears operate. So, I get angry anyhow, all the while questioning why am I angry? Why am I allowing myself to get distracted by emotion and make careless and rudimentary mistakes? I use to be the best at what I did...at least in the locale I did it in. I was the go-to-girl. Everything and anything could be asked of me and I could and would deliver. Now, I am out of my element in a foreign land of talent and skill sets that surpass my existing abilities. Or perhaps I was just a little constipated that day...did feel pretty gassy. I knew in my heart though, that I was working my balls off and coming up short. Don't get me wrong, I wanted this. I longed for a test of my abilities. I just wanted to perform better. It's hard knowing you are the drowning mouse and not the one patiently making cream to butter. I wanna be the butter mouse, dammit. I want to climb out of that cream can, lick myself for hours(cuz butter is delicious) and stroll on ripped and confident. Like a mouse on roids. Will this challenge nourish me in ways never before experienced? Or will I hobble home one day with the realization that I am only as good as I am right now and that is all I will ever be. If it's the latter, whatever will I do? Drown and ruin the farmers butter, I suppose.