Sometimes it's the little things. Maybe they piss you off, shock you, or just make you laugh. But if you sit down and think about it, I mean really THINK about these little things that happen every day and let them build, the pressure will leave you slumped in your chair, blood running from your nose from a massive aneurysm.
I was in a small town outside of the city today - my job takes me all over - and it creeps me out. I won't name it - this is the net, I don't want the cast from "The Village" chasing me, but it's one of those super religious closed communities. The kind where men are men and their daughters are scared. The place looks like Village of the Damned - everyone looks alike.
I was standing in line to get coffee (one of the few Tim Horton's with a shorter line at the drive thru than inside,) about twenty people deep, when these two old ladies came in and just completely bypassed the line. I couldn't believe my eyes as these wrinkled sock puppets pretended that they were the only ones in the room during LUNCH RUSH. The only thing that kept them from being rolled into balls and being dunked like teabags was the ever present Canadian Manners System, or CMS. Often mistaken for apathy. Being old isn't an excuse for being an asshole. If you wanna see God that bad, keep it up.
But it doesn't stop there. They can't drive, either. Yeah, I know - you've heard it before. The jokes - old drivers have an advantage over Chinese drivers in that they can fit more dents into a Cadillac... (stop groaning... all jokes come from some form of truth. Except really nasty ones.) I got sideswiped by an old driver. A little damage to me - he ran me over the fucking curb and STILL hit me. How could you not know you hit someone? He barely left any damage on me, but there was a deep gouge down the entire side of his car! He kept going - I got his plate. I'm sure he was surprised when the cops showed up. Told you, I'm a dick. My car's paid for. Eat it on the no fault, asswipe.
Now - this I saw last night. As you can tell, I follow Twitter. It's one of those addictions that builds slowly, like reality TV or kinky sex. Once you're in it, you're in it. And since I started, I've seen a lot of "Twitterisms" - names or words where the first letter(s) are replaced by "tw." So you get things like twitterverse, tweeps, tweople - you get it. So I'm sliding through the endless parade of posts by people I don't know when I came across one - let's just say by a "Twafrican-American - in which he calls everyone his "twiggas."
Do WHAT??? Twiggas? You got to be fucking kidding me. How can you fight for everything and step into an arena where EVERYONE (except vegans) are equal, and drop yourself and those around you like that? Is it racism? Is it twacism? Does this make me a twacker? What if I were fat? would I be a twat twacker? Okay, that just sounds like an awful porn job. Below fluffer.
Man, think about what you say. I could see a face to face party of twitterers where a white guy walks up and says, "what up, my twiggas!" He'll get the same look as if it had an "N" on the front. He'll get his ass kicked as if it had an "N" on the front. The real world's fucked up. Don't make twitter that way.
Styrofoam heads, part deux:
It occured to me that I didn't explain where I got the term styrofoam head from. See, when I was a kid, we didn't believe in helmets and pads. We raced bikes into each other - or jumped ramps over shit onto pavement. Ah, the days of Evel Kneivel. Now they are only allowed to run up and down the driveway and have to wear more body armor than an infantryman in downtown Kabul. No one got killed in my neighborhood - at least from riding bikes. And if they did - hell. Natural selection. I don't care. I made it. And I did some stupid shit.
The helmet is filled with styrofoam - hence the name. I just think it's to protect the soft skulls of the overprotected, who'll probably end up a burden to someone at some point. Thirty and living in mommy's basement. Like a womb, but dusty and with a little mildew. Kind of like mommy.
Hey, but at least they're safe.
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