Perpetually Peeved

Rainy Days and Tuesdays Always Get Me Peeved

It’s raining here.  It has been all day.

It’s Tuesday, too.  It has been all day.  Tuesdays are like the 20th birthday of the workweek.  Not quite humpday – so what’s the point?

Rain means that everyone drives like a douchebag hopped up on coffee and diet pills.  Guess what?  Everyone is going to be late.  Now stop honking, stop trying to cut me off and, for the love of puppies, stop riding your brakes.

We don’t need to revisit my umbrella issues, do we?  Umbrellas are to me what picture books are to Stevie Wonder.  Absolutely useless.  Smalls’ daycare doesn’t have covered parking.  What’s worse than driving home in rainy rush hour traffic?  Driving home in rainy rush hour traffic with wet pants slapping around on your ankles, a full bladder and a lightening strike that sends all the traffic lights in a 5 mile radius out of commission.  Oh, and a four-year-old singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at the top of her lungs.  Over, and over, and over again.

Remember that great scene with Kathy Bates’ character in Fried Green Tomatoes?  You know the one where she just guns it into the snotty girl’s car?  Hmm, if only.

This is me today. (photo from some random site that just happened to have a pic of grumpy bear -


Smalls (from backseat of car): Mommy, you are a bad person.

Peeved: What?  Why am I a bad person?

Smalls: Because you are mean to people.

Peeved: Why am I mean, now?

Smalls: You are always yelling at all the other people in the cars.

Peeved: I’m not always yelling.  Sometimes they don’t know how to drive.

Smalls: Are you the only one that knows how to drive?

Peeved: Yes.

Smalls: So you need to tell them how to do it?

Peeved: Exactly.


Where do these people learn how to drive?  Yes, folks, a good old-fashioned road rage rant for you today.  Top 5 offenses?

1.  Driving the speed limit. Everyone knows those radar doohickey things are have a 10-mile-an-hour range of error.  That is why you only get a ticket when you are going 10+ miles over.  A cop is not going to waste his time on you unless he can really stick it to you good.  And, please, if you do want to go the speed limit, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, do not do it in the left-hand lane.  I was driving down the road the other day and saw a car with the license plate (and you know how I love my vanity plates) “SPD LMT” that was driving, you guessed it, exactly the speed limit.  I tried to take a picture for you, but the car behind them was so far up their ass I couldn’t get a clear shot.

Good to know. Think DMV has "I POOP" available?

2.  All things blinkers. This is a catch-all offense because if you do one, you probably do the others.  This offense includes, but is not limited to, driving with your blinker on for miles, not using your blinker (hello, I’m not a fecking mind reader!), putting your blinker on as your making the turn, assuming that because you have your blinker on that you can come into my lane automatically, and any and all other actions that cause me to roll down the window and scream, “USE YOUR GODDAMN DIRECTIONAL!” “WELL, SURE, COME ON OVER!” or “TURN ALREADY, YOU MORON!”


Smalls: Is your window down, Mommy?

Peeved: No, why? Are you hot?

Smalls: No.  But, if your window isn’t down, how do they hear you?

Peeved: How does who hear me?

Smalls: The other drivers.


3. Improper use of brakes.  What are you stopping for?  Phantom red lights?  Because I don’t see anything in front of you.  Do you think you get better gas mileage by speeding up just to jam on your brakes?  Do you like the way the brake lights rosily illuminate the back seat?  No?  Then why the hell are you treating your brake pedal like a bass drum control?  I think fellow blogger PB&J Chutney summed it up best here.

4. Blocking the box. New York passed a law a few years back that prohibits people from “blocking the box.”  Just one more reason New York rocks.  For those of you not familiar, blocking the box is when the douchebag driver heading east decides to run through the yellow light even though he knows damn well his car is not going to fit through the intersection, thus blocking you who is trying to head north.  Let’s use the law of the skinny jeans here:  if you can’t fit, don’t.

5. Blowing your horn. If you have time to blow your horn, you have time to get the hell out of the way.  There are only two times that it is okay to blow your horn.  1) If someone is backing up and does not see you.  2) If someone is doing their nails, texting, or otherwise not paying attention and needs a little, “hello, the light is green, thank you” reminder of what the hell they are doing in the car.  A simple double-tap, friendly beep.  Not a honk.  And, not 2 seconds after the light turns.  Got it?

The game of Pedestrian Points is a lot like scrabble. Ugliness = double letter score; oldness = double word score; slowness = triple letter score; and handicap = triple word score. Hey, I didn't make the rules. By the way NICE PHOTOSHOP JOB ON THAT SECOND PICTURE. No more margaritas at lunch for you. Get yours at


Peeved (yelling at guy jogging in road, right next to sidewalk):  Get on the sidewalk!

Smalls: Why are you yelling at that man?  Because he needs to get on the sidewalk?

Peeved: Yes.

Smalls: Can he hear you?

Peeved: Yes, of course.

Smalls: Why are you yelling at him to get on the sidewalk?  Because you don’t want him to get hit by a car?

Peeved: Exactly. (Even if he would have been worth 15 points.)

Dear Honda

(coming to you from somewhere in the endless state of North Carolina whose state motto, I’m pretty certain, is “get me the hell out of this car – I can’t feel my legs and am about to beat down the next person who asks ‘how much longer?'” For those not aware, I am road-tripping it to NY with Hubby, Smalls, sister (aJENda), her kids: Eight and Ten, and a masochistic 17 year old that volunteered to babysit in exchange for a week of real pizza.)

Dear Honda,

I understand that the economy has lead to depressed sales lately and concerns over the environment and rising gas prices have especially affected SUV purchases. I know some car companies are offering employee pricing, no interest or even buy one get one free deals. However, I have an idea for a deal no one would be able to refuse. I propose the Honda PAQ.

The Honda PAQ would have the same accoutrements as the Honda Pilot, with a few bonus “extras” to seal the deal.

1- a privacy screen between the driver avd the rest of the vehicle. You may or may not have seen these in limos. The driver and front passenger do not have to hear or see anything they don’t want to.

2- an intercom system between the driver and the back that is set to not transmit any sounds above a certain frequency (read: whining) and any sounds above a certain decibal (read: shouting). It would also have a built in question response identifier: Are We there yet? No, but thank you for asking. How much longer? We will be arriving at our destination in 6 hours, 7 minutes, thank you for your question. Where are we? We are still in the car, thank you for your question.

3- outlets next to each seat in the back so that Leapsters, DS’ and the like stay perpetually charged.

4- shock absorbing seat backs.

5- massaging seats for driver and front passenger.

6- “side” dividers / partitions between the rear seats that eliminate any confusion over where the “line” is.

7- a drain, with hose and funnel.

8- a built in coffee cup warmer.

9- an alarm that sounds any time the front seat passenger falls asleep.

10- a fully stocked bar for the poor adult that has to ride in the rear of privacy screen (again, see limo).

This, like all things named last in the Mastercard commercials, would be priceless. I am sure it would increase sales triple-fold. No rapping minivan families or other marketing ploys. Just “Honda, how much would you pay for some Peace and Quiet?”


Bumper Stumpers Revisited

Remember that cheesy game show Bumper Stumpers?  Well, I freaking sucked at it.  Majorly.  So besides the fact that vanity plates are a telltale sign of douchery, I also hate them because they make me feel stupid.  I don’t get it.  Isn’t the point of a vanity plate to say something about yourself?  I mean, after all, it’s not like you’re driving behind yourself reading it.  It’s like getting a tattoo on your back – it’s not for your own enjoyment. 

Ever since I started carrying my camera in my car console, I’ve seen a million of these.  I’ve figured out maybe 2 (and those weren’t very hard).  Here are some of the one’s I’ve seen – can you help alleviate my peeve and let me know what YOU think these mean? 

This is one I figured out. But, admittedly, not before trying to remember whether loride was an element on the periodic table. (PS - this guy gets a double douche for non-vintage vette and vanity plate)

I'm still vacillating between Totally Tedious Douche and an advert for a new strain of venereal disease.

Really, you had to get a vanity plate for this? Surely, I'm missing a double entendre here...

You are a 12-month-old and someone just asked you if you need anything from the store? This one REALLY boggles me. I'm losing sleep over it.

Dick-Wad, Re-Waddable???

Sorry, the vanity plate name you have selected is already in use. We suggest: SEK1.

Either you really can't spell, or you just came up with a brilliant alternative to FUCKIT.

Oh - Oh - I get it! You're like Michelle Obama with a stutter.

Okay, I know it's not a vanity plate, but WTF? Has Shrek become a spokesperson for AT&T, moved to Georgia and purchased a used truck? I'm afraid to Google it.

Okay, readers (all 2 of you), break out your Secret Society Decoder pins.  I expect your insights here!

One more reason to rear-end you

I often fantasize about driving into the back of cars just for the fun of it.  In fact, I think it would give me great satisfaction to actually do it one day.  Maybe when my car is about to die I’ll give it a shot.  When I do, I’m going to make sure it’s one of those Subaru Outbacks that is covered in bumper stickers.  You know the ones I’m talking about.  They have something to say and dangnabbit the back of their car is the place to do it.

It completely pisses me off if I have to try to speed up to get close enough to read the bumper sticker and it’s something stupid.  I mean, for all that effort, please entertain me.  I don’t care if your kid is an honor student, if you came from Tybee Island (GD I HATE those initial circle thingys!), or if your dog is smarter than my honor student.  Really, who gives a shit but you?

The political bumper stickers are even worse.  Why don’t you spend the time it took to go out, buy the bumper sticker, peel the back off and find the perfect spot amongst the collage, to write a letter to Congress.  You are not going to change the world with a bumper sticker.  Hell, you’re not even going to change an opinion.

Now this is entertaining…

Yes, you read that right. Potty humor rocks.

Is that a banana seat in your ass or are you just trying to piss me off?

Bicycles.  Just the word makes me cringe.  So, I’ve decided to come up with my own rules of the road for cyclists:

1.  Don’t drive on the street.  You are NOT as fast as a car.  If I wanted to get where I was going at 14 miles an hour, I would have hitched a trailer to the back of your bike.

2.  Don’t wear spandex.  I don’t need to know the size of the nuts you’re bruising and it doesn’t make you any faster than the other dumbasses who aren’t wearing it.

3.  Don’t bother with the hand signals.  Only you rejects know what the hell they mean.  You’re just distracting me and I’m more likely to accidentally “tap” you with my car.

4.  Follow the rules of the road.  If you insist upon riding in the street like a car, then obey the rules of the road.  If I speed up and finally get around you, don’t blow through the red light so I have to do it all over again.

5.  Don’t admire each others paint jobs.  Cyclists are like women who need to pee, they’re rarely alone.  If you are riding with a partner, don’t ride next to each other.  You’re just tempting me to kill two birds with one stone.

Finally, for the newbies out there (car break down, DUI?): 

6.  Get in shape before you start riding.  If your ass is three times the width of the bicyle seat, you shouldn’t be riding one.

Just so I’m not picking on cyclists too much, there are worse things.  Like when you are stuck behind a car that is stuck behind two cyclists and is too chickenshit to pass them, so decides to drive 10 miles an hour while straddling two lanes.  Took this shot on my way home today.  It’s a little blurry because the road rage triggered my Tourette’s.


They drove like this for a good half mile.

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