I have just two things I would like to address real quick before I go to sleep, and I’m looking at you Illinois drivers. Now, I come from the land of asshole drivers, namely New England, but I think I’m just really accustomed to the insanity of the various Massachusetts speedways. That being said, I’d like talk about two topics that seem to have been skipped in Illinois driving schools:

1. Firstly, it is illegal for me to run a red light. Let me repeat that. It is illegal for me to run a red light. Got it? That means that for the first half second between when the light turns from red to green, it is perfectly normal for someone to not already be moving. So, lay off the fucking horn as soon as the light turns green! Seriously people, I have seen that the light has turned green, I have registered this, and now I’m starting to take my foot off the brake, then HOOOOONK! If you’re in that much of a rush run the damn light on your own. I’m not prepared to move out into traffic because I didn’t join into your lights-about-to-change-pregame-party. Calm the fuck down.
2. Speaking of moving into traffic, here’s something else I’d like you to stop doing. Do you know what a stop-line is? Do you, really? Here’s the idea behind a stop-line. When you come to a red-light there is a line, which you are supposed to stop behind. They call this the stop-line. Now, when you’re at the light, fucking stop. See, besides not getting creamed by passing traffic, you might actually let me, the guy to your right who wants to make a right-on-red, see whether or not it is clear for me to turn. If you thought old-lead-foot behind me was pissed that I wasn’t running a red light, try explaining to him that you’re blocking my line of site so I’m doing the responsible thing and waiting for a green light so I can make my right with confidence. So please, stop at the damn line. Oh, and don’t creep over it, either, ’cause what’s the damn point?

I’m gonna go 100% speculative and blame coffee and energy drinks, ’cause why not?

I am at work right now (there is a reason I don’t deserve a raise). I’m sitting at my desk, in the office that I have all to myself, with torture devices files to my left, tea in my hand, and my iPod in my ear. I can almost imagine my brother’s picture smiling with me when some heavy Shai Hulud comes on.

It occurs to me that any coworkers who happen to notice the iPod will likely assume I’m listening to some Paris Hilton girly pop songs. Those of you who know Shai Hulud will see how ridiculous this mental picture is. Those of you that don’t, well, picture this:

You work in a very small office (5 people total). You and the other three people have been there for years, but in February, you decided to hire someone to enter all the files into the database. This girl is quiet and shy. She generally only responds to conversation, never initiates. Today, she is wearing a fluffy skirt and her hair down. When you bid her a good morning, she turns and, with a sweet little smile, squeaks out the same to you. You happen to notice she’s listening to her iPod.

Now, think about Shai Hulud. If you don’t know them, think of heavy guitar, fast bass, and the singer screaming, “I’m prepared to fight humanity every day FOR THE REST OF MY LIIIIIIFE!”

I had Shai Hulud on during my morning commute, and was happily singing along to A Profound Hatred of Man. Cheerful, upbeat, childlike me was singing/screaming at the top of my lungs, “If these hands could only kill, I’d cleanse the world with IT’S OWN BLOOOOOD!” Good morning, Massachusetts.

I just think it’s a funny that people think I’m so boring innocent and naive. People, I am not.

There’s no doubt that the one recurring theme in today’s America is obesity speed. Everything has to be fast: fast cars, fast service, fast sex food. People are always in a rush, even when they have nowhere to be (I’ve admittely been guilty of such). We exceed the speed limit, tailgate, get angry when our waitress forgot something small and has to run back to the kitchen to get it, complain loudly when our meal takes more than ten minutes, and make those annoyed sighing sounds when someone takes too long to pay for their groceries and holds up the line all of four seconds. Look, lady, I don’t care if you’re seventy and have a broken leg but still have to take care of your ailing husband and your granddaughter’s year old love child — I GOT SHIT TO DO!

Okay, so I might be exaggerating. A little. Maybe…. or maybe not at all. Either way, food and driving and such are not the only things that are moving too fast for my tastes. There are also the big Rs.

RELATIONSHIPS.

Remember back in the sixties? Women used to wear those stupid poodle skirts and short-sleeved sweaters (who ever invented those ridiculous things?), and guys used to slick back their hair and dress nice.

Back then, people used to do this thing called dating. I know that may sound kind of foreign to some of you, but listen here: it exists! No, no, it’s not the same as “going out” — going out suggests an exclusive relationship. See, dating is just what it sounds like - going on dates! You go on dates, get to know each other, and then decide if you want to begin an actual relationship.

Yes, yes, I realize that sounds old fashioned and boring. But let me tell you — it’s a lot easier to stop seeing someone you’re not interested in if you’re just dating, as opposed to having to go through the break-up process. Easier and less emotionally messy.

All I’m saying is slow the hell down, people. There’s absolutely no reason to leap headfirst into a relationship with someone you hardly know just because you “kinda had fun together that one time.” I’m just saying it’s a little quick to go out once, then talk about moving in together and all the children you’ll have and where you’ll live and what the wedding will be like.

Puke sequence activated.

What ever happened to talking the time to get to know someone? To enjoy their company for a while before putting all the pressure of a relationship on the two of you? I happen to find that taking things slow makes me like a person so much more than if we jump right into it (in all honesty, if things move that fast, I often lose interest). A little mystery adds an element of excitement to everything! Not knowing when you’ll see each other next adds a bit of sweet longing for that next meeting!

Does anyone follow me? At all?

Eh, screw you guys. I like this whole dating deal; you all are just whores.