A lot of people must be on holiday this week because so far *touch wood* the traffic has been light going to and coming from work.
But that does not spare anyone from the occasional smacked ass the state troopers of PA felt it O.K. to issue a license to.
Like always , I was talking to Geo on the cell via the headset. It is our only form of communication during the week. It's also probably been the key to such a successful relationship. Anyway, talking to Geo (keep in mind the man drives an 18-wheeler for a living):
"So where you at, babe?"
"On 84 in Connecticut in rush hour."
"Sounds like fun"
"Oh yeah, thrills. O.K. everyone, I got to get over so yield or get pushed in the shoulder."
a few seconds later
"Did they yield?"
"Yeah. One whore in her little sports car was holding out but she got wise and moved at the last second."
"I don't give a fuck. I got my turn signal on and it's an exit lane. They don't want to move, fuck'em."
someone cuts me off on the boulevard. I blurt out
"Nice move, you nasty jiz-bucket!"
moment of silence
"You've got anger issues."
"Yeah, you mean old cantankerous thing."
"You've got to be kidding me. Next to you I'm Mary freaking Poppins."
I hear the baby in the backseat. I look in the mirror to see what she is doing. She's pointing her little finger and yelling some gibberish at the other drivers. Geo hears her.
"What's she doing?"
"Giving the other drivers hell."
"That's my girl!"
"Yeah, well, provided she doesn't say jiz-bucket in front of my parents, we'll be fine."
"We? Don't even think about it. You're on your own, sister."