Monday, May 21, 2012

Bad Liars and Bad Drivers

One of the most irksome and most wonderful things about living here is that there are so many bad drivers that I look good by comparison. I look like Jeff Gordon (is he still a thing? probably not). Every area has its quirks. For instance, in Madison, Wisconsin, no one knows how to merge. But Salt Lake is like a grocery store full of senile old people, and instead of carts we have two-ton death machines.

Turn signals are completely optional. Someone once explained to me that this is because if you're on a multi-lane road, and you turn on your signal, people will move to NOT let you in. This explains changing lanes, but it doesn't explain not using turn signals when you're actually turning. And THEN! Half the time, when I do see a turn signal, it's not even reliable. People use them so seldom that when they do actually turn them on, they completely forget about them for the next three miles.

Saturday on my way home, I watched a lady drift slowly across three lanes of traffic, wander directly in front of me, THEN turn on her right signal. A few seconds later (with the blinker still on), she drifted back to the lane to left of her. I honked, and she didn't even flip me off. She didn't even hear me, she was so engrossed in her phone conversation. I knew she was on the phone because she had it held up in front of her face like a microphone.

I love it when people hold their phones up in front of their faces when they talk instead of putting them on speakerphone, or holding them up to their ear. It's like the telephone equivalent of holding a gun sideways in the movies. You think you look cool, but you really just look kind of weird.

Emmy continues to do everything she can to make me insane. I kind of don't mind because she does it so hilariously. Like the not sleeping thing. Things Emmy has said to get out of her crib at night:

I pinched my tongue!

I bonked my tummy!

I'm done singing!

Iiiiii'm poooop! [she's not]

I need some water! [she doesn't]

I need some chocolate!

No dogs allowed!

Hold still!

Move back up!

She push me! [Grace is sound asleep]

Mom! Mommy! Mom! Mama! Mom! Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM! Mommy! Mama!

I gave birth to Stewie's soulmate.


  1. I hope nobody drives those little 400 pound smart cars. They would never have a chance.

    She does need chocolate, you know.

    1. I haven't seen any 400 pound smart cars, but maybe that's because they're all flattened and pushed into the ditch before they even get home from the dealership.

      I am quite sure that Emmy needs chocolate; unfortunately for her, any chocolate coming into the house goes directly to me, and then it doesn't go any further.