When I eat spicy things I immediately get hiccups. This morning the chipotle-something trendy-something else-cilantro-cream sauce on my breakfast burrito at French Meadow Bakery was exceptionally spicy and after one bite I was hiccupping uncontrollably and unable to eat for 5 minutes.
Were it not for stuff like this I would think my life was a waste.

Once, while waiting for the bus one morning in second grade we decided to have a contest. A screaming contest. Fifteen kids on a suburban street corner in the dead of winter, as the sun is rising, trying to see who could scream the loudest.
I have to believe that this convinced a good number of people to remain childless forever.
You can thank me for being the most efficient population control device around.

We all know I love my car. A lot. It’s a kind of love that runs so deep your heart stops beating when you look outside in the midst of a terrible storm to see a tree laying on your car and the alarm freaking out. Your heart starts beating again when you realize that your car is so fucking fantastic that even a tree can’t really harm if.
Yes, I love my car, but it has a couple of design flaws. Sigh.
1)The ashtray. The ashtray can not be removed while the car is in park, the gearshift is in the way. So you have to have the car in at least reverse, but preferrably drive in order to wrangle it out. So you put the car in drive, yank the ashtray out, put the car in park, go dump the ashtray, get back in the car, put the car back in drive, replace the ashtray and continue with your day. If you are paying attention and not daydreaming, this is not a big deal. If you are like me (and really, who is not like me???) you daydream a little about censored, pull out the ashtray and go to step out of the car and briefly forget that the car is in drive. I’m retarded and my car is designed to exacerbate my mental limitations.
2) The windshield washer fluid resevoir holds an entire bottle of washer fluid. This is a good thing. Also, my car tells me when it is low, a little message pops up on the computer screen that says “Washer Fluid Level Low”. Dreamy, orgasmically dreamy. Being responsible, I grab a bottle right away and pour it in. Problem is, my fluid level is only low and not empty and the resevoir only holds a bottle’s worth, not a bottle’s worth plus whatever qualifies as low (apparently the last inch in the bottle). In the back of my car I collect bottles of windshield washer fluid with about an inch of liquid in them. I understand that there are things that can be done to alleviate this situation, I know people who are all proactive and would give me that disgusted sigh that would say, “the solution is so fucking obvious”. I’m sure it is obvious, but the thing of it is, I own a car that effectively erases the need for personal responsibility, why is it being so half assed about it now??
Still, I love my car. If anyone out there feels like donating a new Saab Viggen suspension to me, just drop me a line.

Hey, Californians, remember when you laughed at us here in Minnesota for the whole Jesse Venture debacle? Remember that? I know you do.
Yeah, so I guess this is me saying…
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Oh MAN! that feels good! Phew, let me catch my breath here.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Sorry about that, but you know we had to put up with Jesse for so long, now it’s your turn.

Just a thought, maybe you should start seeing your fellow motorists. Seriously, look around and take notice. They exist in a physical space, much like the motorcyclists you are trying to keep safe. Sometimes these motorists might be existing in the same physical space as you might be wanting to occupy. Please notice us there.
For your own physical safety you might really want to take notice of us because someone, perhaps even myself, might not be able to brake as fast as I did today. It’s a good thing I DID brake as quickly as I did and that my brakes are new, because if your trite, socially conscious stickered, tardmobile had bumped into my car….
Well, let’s just say that the nexus of raging PMS, early period, 8 days of insomnia, no caffeine and the fact that I had not had a cigarette since 9am might culminate in me forcing you off the road, ripping your door off, ripping your head off and wedging it tightly in your ass.
Just saying, is all.