I've always said the world would be a great place to live if it weren't for all the people. I mean the parts of it that people haven't had a chance to screw up are pretty cool - inspiring even. I guess there is probably a number of people out there that think the same thing as me and to them I wouldn't be around so it's probably a moot point to think about. Which brings me to the reality (ugh) that we're all stuck here together. Now I know why I can't wait to get home at night.
Even then, the drive home forces me to deal with all the same people driving with their cellphones held up to their ear that were doing it before they passed the headset law. And they all seem to only be able to hear out of their left ears so they ne
ver can see me as they change lanes and nearly change my radio station in the process since they are so close not being able to see anything to the left side of their nose. Jabber away - it is at this point that I tend to yell out to my empty car for them to just "GET OFF YOUR F-ING CELL PHONE!!". They don't seem to hear me. Why do I bother yelling at them if they're not paying any attention? Maybe if I rolled down the windows first... but then, they might not have purchased a blue tooth headset because they spent all their cash on the pistol in the glove box, so perhaps I'll just let that one go for now.
The only other thing that really gets me going in my drive to or from the office is the seemingly endless parade of bicyclists that make up their own rules on MY road. Now before I get a ton of hate mail (not that it will influence my opinion at this point), I'm not talking about the handful of people that have to use their bikes for real transportation or all the fun looking couples out there on their beach cruisers or having a nice afternoon on their mountain bikes or the small groups of REAL professionals that are actually training for the Olympics or something and understand the concept of sharing the road and playing nicely with their 4,000 pound neighbors a few inches to their left. In fact I even enjoy watching these real bike races and respect those that risk so much to pursue that dream.
No, I am not talking about any of those guys, but rather that ridiculous group of clones that don't seem to have anything better to do when I'm driving to work in the mornings besides staring at the multi-colored saran wrapped butts of the 2 dozen bicyclists all lined up in front of them. Honestly - somebody pass a law that these color-wheel disaster bike outfits only come in small or medium and that they should NOT STRETCH more than a few percent. I haven't done the math on this, but I'm fairly certain that a 250 pound bicyclist on a 1/2 pound bike is not going to shave 5 seconds off his time because he's wearing his version of the cape-less Superman outfit. They run in packs in my neighborhood, being the bike friendly capital of the universe apparently, like so many brightly colored comets bunched up behind or in front of me with total disregard for my existence. My usual question is - I wonder what kinds of jobs these guys have that lets them "go play" with their friends every morning when I'M GOING TO WORK!? That thought blurs as they whiz past me in glorious cycle technicolor.
And who are all these companies that have their names on these psychedelic outfits? All the writing seems to be French or Italian and probably just mean things like "biker dude" or "tight is right" but in a foreign language to sound elitist the same way Starbucks pulls that whole Venti/Grande thing on us every morning. Really Starbucks, I'm addicted to whatever you put in that stuff every day but can't you just name the damn sizes the way they look? And they should label the bicyclist's outfits the way they look as well - "Too small, too tight", too "Can you see my package?", and too "I can only get my sense of self worth smelling the butts of 50 more bicyclists in front of me all dressed the same." Plus I'm pretty sure one of those stickers they wear is French for "I can drive anywhere I want and don't have to stay in the lines or obey stoplights and you can't do a damn thing about it in your big old SUV that could knock me off the road just by activating the adjustable mirrors because my lawyer is Larry H Parker and he got me 2.1 Million dollars." Or something to that effect.
But you want to know the real reason I can't stand these kinds of bikers? It's not any of these silly affectations they exude - including the funky suits. It's the fact that by not paying attention to me driving as they blow through a stop sign or cross en mass at the last minute across my freeway onramp turn they are forcing ME to be responsible for THEIR lives. And I did not ask to take that on. They are not my children or spouse or anyone else I am dedicated to protect no matter what they do. They're just multi-colored assholes that need a reality check; which is saying a lot considering my own struggle with reality!
And that is why it's so hard to maintain, or even DEFINE, Sanity.
Mental Health -- It really is Harder than you think.
Even then, the drive home forces me to deal with all the same people driving with their cellphones held up to their ear that were doing it before they passed the headset law. And they all seem to only be able to hear out of their left ears so they ne
ver can see me as they change lanes and nearly change my radio station in the process since they are so close not being able to see anything to the left side of their nose. Jabber away - it is at this point that I tend to yell out to my empty car for them to just "GET OFF YOUR F-ING CELL PHONE!!". They don't seem to hear me. Why do I bother yelling at them if they're not paying any attention? Maybe if I rolled down the windows first... but then, they might not have purchased a blue tooth headset because they spent all their cash on the pistol in the glove box, so perhaps I'll just let that one go for now.The only other thing that really gets me going in my drive to or from the office is the seemingly endless parade of bicyclists that make up their own rules on MY road. Now before I get a ton of hate mail (not that it will influence my opinion at this point), I'm not talking about the handful of people that have to use their bikes for real transportation or all the fun looking couples out there on their beach cruisers or having a nice afternoon on their mountain bikes or the small groups of REAL professionals that are actually training for the Olympics or something and understand the concept of sharing the road and playing nicely with their 4,000 pound neighbors a few inches to their left. In fact I even enjoy watching these real bike races and respect those that risk so much to pursue that dream.
No, I am not talking about any of those guys, but rather that ridiculous group of clones that don't seem to have anything better to do when I'm driving to work in the mornings besides staring at the multi-colored saran wrapped butts of the 2 dozen bicyclists all lined up in front of them. Honestly - somebody pass a law that these color-wheel disaster bike outfits only come in small or medium and that they should NOT STRETCH more than a few percent. I haven't done the math on this, but I'm fairly certain that a 250 pound bicyclist on a 1/2 pound bike is not going to shave 5 seconds off his time because he's wearing his version of the cape-less Superman outfit. They run in packs in my neighborhood, being the bike friendly capital of the universe apparently, like so many brightly colored comets bunched up behind or in front of me with total disregard for my existence. My usual question is - I wonder what kinds of jobs these guys have that lets them "go play" with their friends every morning when I'M GOING TO WORK!? That thought blurs as they whiz past me in glorious cycle technicolor.
And who are all these companies that have their names on these psychedelic outfits? All the writing seems to be French or Italian and probably just mean things like "biker dude" or "tight is right" but in a foreign language to sound elitist the same way Starbucks pulls that whole Venti/Grande thing on us every morning. Really Starbucks, I'm addicted to whatever you put in that stuff every day but can't you just name the damn sizes the way they look? And they should label the bicyclist's outfits the way they look as well - "Too small, too tight", too "Can you see my package?", and too "I can only get my sense of self worth smelling the butts of 50 more bicyclists in front of me all dressed the same." Plus I'm pretty sure one of those stickers they wear is French for "I can drive anywhere I want and don't have to stay in the lines or obey stoplights and you can't do a damn thing about it in your big old SUV that could knock me off the road just by activating the adjustable mirrors because my lawyer is Larry H Parker and he got me 2.1 Million dollars." Or something to that effect.
And in God's bizarre sense of humor, these bike clubs and my starbucks tend to collide on Saturday mornings as I'm standing in line trying to get my regular Grande IN a Venti Double cup - said very slowly so I don't actually get two cups of coffee - and I freeze as I hear the clippity-clop of their little shoes that don't have any souls (yes, I meant to spell it like that), but rather just a quick release clip 
to connect them to their individual mother ships parked outside. You can't wear golf shoes in the clubhouse, so why doesn't anyone decide that they don't want these noisy obnoxious semi-shoes in their stores? The reason is that they all buy triple venti non-fat lattes with light foam extra hot using skim milk from free range Argentinian goats (just before they were slaughtered to make the little breakfast sandwiches..) and they make a butt-load of money off them all.
to connect them to their individual mother ships parked outside. You can't wear golf shoes in the clubhouse, so why doesn't anyone decide that they don't want these noisy obnoxious semi-shoes in their stores? The reason is that they all buy triple venti non-fat lattes with light foam extra hot using skim milk from free range Argentinian goats (just before they were slaughtered to make the little breakfast sandwiches..) and they make a butt-load of money off them all.But you want to know the real reason I can't stand these kinds of bikers? It's not any of these silly affectations they exude - including the funky suits. It's the fact that by not paying attention to me driving as they blow through a stop sign or cross en mass at the last minute across my freeway onramp turn they are forcing ME to be responsible for THEIR lives. And I did not ask to take that on. They are not my children or spouse or anyone else I am dedicated to protect no matter what they do. They're just multi-colored assholes that need a reality check; which is saying a lot considering my own struggle with reality!
And that is why it's so hard to maintain, or even DEFINE, Sanity.
Mental Health -- It really is Harder than you think.
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