Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Morning commutes

You've got to love life in a small town.

It is almost guaranteed that if you stick to the same schedule every day, you will start to see people over and over.

This morning, I had this fucker behind me all the way in. He had no clue who I was, because he has the IQ of a grain of sand. I, however, never forget someone who calls me an asshole! But there he was!

He got on the interstate right behind me, so he must live near me. And yes, I will now work on meeting up with him one afternoon and tailing him home. Then I can post his address and hopefully his name and telephone number on this blog, just because I don't think there's anything in the Constitution that says I can't. And he'll appreciate that, since he wants God to bless America (except for the assholes?). Which in my mind also means he doesn't want God to bless any other countries. If he did, then wouldn't his license plate read "God Bless Humanity"?

The weird part is that he was behind me the whole way in, but about four miles from downtown, I started getting the feeling that this was Mr. America. I don't know why. He never got close enough to see, and there are zillions of white Ford SUVs on the roads here. But he sure as hell had no clue. But I was sure enough to get my phone ready before he pulled in front of me. I had to check the license plate, so he got past me before I could snap. Today he was apparently driving the "Bachus 4 wheel buffet", as he was munching down on something (with his mouth open, if I'm not mistaken). I wish I could have snapped his face, just for your viewing pleasure. He looks like such a dickhead. I seriously hope to catch him one afternoon and snap his kids and pet and house.

On another note:

Yesterday, as I was taking my evening constitutional I happened upon an ATM/Debit card laying on the side of the road. I thought that was an odd place for someone to be keeping such an important thing. Anyhow, I picked it up and pocketed it with the full intention of either trying to notify the owner, or taking it to the bank. I figure option B is the best plan since option A would open me up for all kinds of shenanigans if the cardholder ending up being an unsavory individual. They could go buy a bunch of shit and then say I did it. Y'know, it sucks to think like I do sometimes.

But just so you'll not think I am a truly golden god, I did have a momentary lapse later that evening when I rode with my girlfriend to go fill up her car. It would have been so easy to pull that one off, and since gas costs more than uranium it was difficult to get that thought out of my head.

Boy, it's tough being a pillar of strength.


At 18/4/06 14:02, Blogger Neil said...

What if you found out the ATM card belonged to the asshole guy?

At 19/4/06 06:16, Blogger Mr Bates said...

Then he would be my bitch, for sure!


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