don’t experience. Of course, this time of year is also perfect for taking simple shit like driving to work and turning it into a circus of stupidity.
Isn’t it funny how a little water can totally screw up a task of five minutes? I’m talking about water in solid form, namely the coat of ice that encased my Blazer and made it look like a glazed fucking donut. This is Kansas, people, not somewhere like North Dakota or Michigan, so what’s with the hate from the sky? This layer of frozen shit was the kind that breaks your ice scraper. I’d add the lack of friction between me and the street made beating my windshield with the raggedy-ass tool more comic than anything else.
I contemplated an old Cavalry trick – pissing on the damn ice while the wipers do their thing. Of course, whipping your unused schwanz out in the Whitebread ‘Hood that is my duty station is generally frowned upon. I had no desire to have Mr. MP remind me about how his authority trumps my rank. Fuckers. Also, the wipers were locked to the glass. So I gave up and let the shitty little defrost vents work.
While sitting on my frostbitten (years back, not this particular incident) fingertips, I realized that solid water caused another piece of drama for me. Returning Mama Rants to my house in the process of moving her, I’d no sooner bitched about how people drove like idiots in icy conditions when minor disaster struck.
I’d add that for a California boy, I drive pretty damn well in winter conditions. No amount of skill or luck will overcome black ice under snow, however. Witness the giant dent in my rear bumper as proof, courtesy of Mr. Tree. Yes, Mama Rants is all right. Simple task: drive from Point A to Point B. Perhaps not so much. But hey, free pull out of the ditch by the Tow Guy! I’m a fucking SpEd!
As the burning needles receded from my fingertips, I wondered about other things to entertain all y’all with. Politicians of course are always great Rant fodder and never disappoint. Sad that letting us down is all they’re consistent at doing. I could also bitch that another disappointing football season has come and gone. Army… well fuck. And the Raiders of course… well fuck.
The Trojans played their faux bowl game, as if anyone cared. Decent record, shitty bowl. And exactly where did all those “bowl” games come from? I can’t tell any of them apart anymore, except for the ones that are “important” and have retained their Cotton/Sugar/Rose/Fiesta moniker in the midst of the corporate asshattery adorning the event.
Eventually, the feeble, old heater in my Blazer powered through the glacier on my windshield. I got to focus on keeping my tires on the mainly-dry parts of the road. The parking lot at work was fun because it was a skating rink. I parked my shit like a boss in a total Tokyo Glide, right into a spot. So there you have it.
Water: it’s what sandpapered my balls today.
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Post-Screed: If anyone is within easy driving distance of BD and can bring her a fresh bottle of vodka (go with the Stoli, she’s upscale goods) and some lemons and/or limes and bitters, do so. Yeah, I know putting chains on is a beeyotch. Just do it. You may well save the planet. Oh, olives, too.
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