Wet Again

It's wet again today. Good for the plants, eh? Go ahead, say it.

Well I say fuck the plants. Within a few decades they'll all be paved over or replaced by frankenfruit anyway. It's no kindness to coddle them.

It's always the same with these Pollyanna types. A woman in a huge pickup truck just sideswiped a parked car across the street from me. She was talking on her cell phone and didn't have both hands free I guess, so she tried to pull forwards into her parking space, and squinch (a sound like crushing a styrofoam coffee cup) went the visually impressive metallic-tone-painted plastic fenders on both vehicles. Without ever taking phone from ear she climbed down, checked out the damage, and finally parked her behemoth in a different space. Who pays for this sort of behavior?

They love to hang out in the coffee shop too, yelling about how important their jobs are. I think some of them are faking it. There's nobody on the other end, the battery is dead, the phone is a prop. They don't even have jobs. It's just an excuse for taking the inner dialog public. Which, ok, blogging, fine, touche, but I don't yammer this crap into your ear at top volume. (Unless I know you in real life, in which case, ok, sorry, yes I do.)

So here's my view: fuck plants, fuck people who can't stop yelling, fuck drivers in fucking gigundo plastic siege towers who can't even see what lane they're in, steer with one elbow, slow to a crawl at green lights and run the reds. And fuck this fucking rain.