Walk with me…
So I’m on my way to work today, running late (surprised?), eating my banana and listening to my “Morning Mix.” It’s got a lot of John Mayer, Third Eye Blind, Van Morrisson, all stuff I sing and cry to, and it saves me every day. Not just emotionally, but in a very literal sense, too, because I’m (one) what my pediatrician calls “poster-child A.D.D.” and (two) significantly more tired than when I’m in bed trying to sleep, making it a daily struggle for me to keep from dozing off, crossing the median and becoming news. So yeah, I sing.
Anyways, I’m already a little sad at this point, singing John Mayer (Gravity, for those wondering), and voluntarily driving myself somewhere I don’t want to be. Worse, there’s like millions of other people voluntarily doing the same thing, so we’re all stuck between each other. Plus, God is shitting all over everybody (T-Storms). You’d think Rt. 684 was selling Yanks-Sox tickets to the first thousand commuters (They’re not). Man, no tickets, that’s pretty shitty, right? Well, it gets shittier. Japanese cars everywhere. All one color. Gray. And in 65 different shades! Oh, and they sell like hookers. You’ve got one. In all it’s shitty gray glory, sitting there in your driveway, just waiting for you to take it out and make my life just a little bit shittier. Oh! Oh! Best part: they last forever, so you can piss me off for over 200,000 miles.
And for this, I wanted to make sure I wrote a message to extend my deepest and most sincere hatred towards Toyota and Honda Motor Companies for officially making my daily commute the most drab and Gray experience of my life. Cool, especially considering I’ll probably spend a nice little chunk of my life this way.
And a special message for those who own one:
I know what you’re gonna say, “Wah, mine is different, wah, wah.” Don’t tell me yours is different. Its not Mystic Metallic Mist, or Super Suave Silver, it’s gray, it’s fucking gray. Sheep.
Okay, back to work.