I would like to share an interesting fact about me, Kara.
Sometimes, I get the road rage.
Mostly just when driving in a car. It happens nearly every day, though. My blood pressure rises, the muscles in my neck become taught with anger, like ropes of sinew straining to keep in all the boiling blood pounding through it. I grind my teeth down to flat porcelain nubs to keep from sharing my constantly evolving vocabulary of seething vitriol. Wowza. If something happens so often like this, I sometimes think it requires some self reflection, because ya know, maybe I am the problem. But no. It’s not me, it’s you. It really is you.
It’s you in the BMW, “Hot BM”. Like.. BMW or like.. Bowel Movement?
It’s you in the Toyota, reading THE BIBLE ON THE ON RAMP TO THE HIGH WAY. We are not in stop and go traffic by the way, we are going about 30km/hour. I hope you’re reading your last goddamn rights lady. All I can say its “Holy Shit.” Literally.
I’ve seen people eat breakfast. No not a granola bar– one hand holding a BOWL OF CEREAL and the other hand holding a spoon, and I dunno, steering with his bloody knees? God knows. I watched a women in front of me in a little suzuki wipe off her make up with a make up remover, apply moisturizer, foundation, blush, EYELINER, mascara, eye shadow, lipstick and then style her hair all down the road, it took 45 minutes. I’ve seen people brushing their teeth, popping pimples– one lady meticulously plucking her eyebrows and CHIN HAIRS and I could not look away. I watched a lady merge on to the highway with a stack of dishes on her roof, which then went sailing all over the highway smashing like fucking bombs across 3 lanes of traffic. I saw a guy on a motorcycle texting. YOU’RE ALL TEXTING! Damn it Auckland. I swear to god, I will get out of my car, and take your (tweezers, fork, mascara, toothbrush, John Grisham novel..) and stick it in your tail pipe.