Feel, don’t think

I’m terrible at picking lines (or queue, if you’re British) to be in. Whether it is the concession line, the checkout line, the lane of traffic to drive in. If you see me in line for something, pick another line. Trust me.

No matter which line I choose, even if there is only one person ahead of me, there will be something extraordinary they need. “Can you please count out 47 unpopped kernels to put in the bag? But don’t put them all in the bottom. Put in half a scoop of popped popcorn, then 7 unpopped. Another half scoop of popped. 12 unpopped. A full scoop of popped. 9 unpopped. Full scoop. 11 unpopped. Scoop and a half. 8 unpopped. Top off the bag. Thanks.” It never fails.

To solve this problem, my wife suggested that I ignore my instincts when picking a line. If there is one person in line and I’m thinking about picking that line, go to the one that has 14 people in it. Inevitably, the one person will get one box of candy and be on their way. When I want to switch to that line, 38 people will get there before I do. I am to ignore this thought.

Now, my instinct is to ignore my instincts. Instead of picking the line that looks like they don’t need anything special, I will go to the line that has 5 people in it. Unfortunately, karma is too smart for this. She knows I’m following my instincts to ignore my instincts. Thus, I am, indeed, following my instinct. The second person will ask for half nachos, half pretzel bites. The third will want a “suicide,” which the person working the register won’t understand, because they’re 17. The fifth will need a vegan chicken finger meal. Or there will be a semi turning right two cars in front of me., but can’t get through because of the car turning left that is in their way.

My non-instinctual instinct was wrong again. Thanks a lot, karma

The word instinct has lost all meaning.

A bunch of malarkey

I slept on my neck wrong. I don’t know exactly what that means or how one does it. Regardless, I’m having a Batman day. What’s a Batman day, you ask? A Batman day is one where you can’t turn your head without turning your shoulders and half your upper body.

I’ve been doing deliveries all weekend. Which means a lot of highway driving. And, given my current Batman-ness, this is no easy task. Simply changing lanes involved rotating my entire body to check for an opening. Then rotating back. Groping for the turn signal. Then finally changing lanes. The whole process took about 3 minutes. And this was all on sparsely occupied freeways.

So I have to call shenanigans. There is no way Batman could zip the Batmobile through the streets of Gotham the way he does. Especially not if he pretends to be taking into consideration the safety of all the innocent bystanders in Gotham.

Given his limited mobility and peripheral vision, the tight streets, and the speeds he reaches, he’s lucky he doesn’t smack into the walls of Bank of Gotham, much less any number of taxis or minivans. Don’t even get me started on how he maneuvers the Batcycle. It’s really no wonder why the Gotham Police Department doesn’t like him all that much.

Maybe he is the hero Gotham deserves, after all.

Daytime musings

On another road trip. This time, we headed west. Minnesota, to be exact. (Ironically, it seems everywhere we go is 13 hours away. Why don’t we go any place closer? Or fly?)

(I was tired when I wrote this. Excuse me if it goes astray. Fitting to use Prince in Minnesota, no? Plus, it was composed via voice recorder over the course of the entire day. All continuity/segue flaws are to be ignored. Thanks, Mgmt.)

Driving during the daytime isn’t nearly as fun as driving at night. For one, there’s a lot more traffic. It’s not the nice smooth sailing you get at night.

Secondly, I’m not left alone with my thoughts. The thoughts I’m left with are as follows:

“I think I’m gonna puke!”

“Stop touching me!”

“I’m hungry!”

“Watch robots!”

“Let me wipe your hands before you touch your monkey.”

Very relaxing, no?

Thirdly, there is a ton more traffic. Like a traffic jam backed up for miles. So bad that you have to make a U-turn through the ditch to head in the exact opposite direction you need to be going. You will fight with Salli (my GPS) the entire way. She’ll keep saying, “Recalculating.” What she really means is, “Why don’t you ever listen to me?” Typical woman.

Then you’ll stop to get gas. And all of your debit/credit cards will say, “Call card issuer.” You will say, “WTF?” until one eventually works. (Not really sure when/why I switched to second person perspective for this. Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll switch back soon.) Remind me to call them later. Given our luck, they probably put some fraud block on all of them.

After fighting with Salli for 40 miles, she finally gave up and picked the route I wanted. And then she promptly jumped off the windshield. Only it turned out that she hadn’t picked the right route, after all. I DON’T WANT TO TAKE 65, SALLY!! Give it up!

PetitOrange (Our French student, poor thing, just traveled 18 hours to get here. And we turn around and drive her 12 hours to Minnesota. She seems much more mellow and sweet. “And less likely to swear at the other kids.”) is most likely wondering why I’m talking into my phone as I’m driving. (PeachJello is making fun of me, too. Whatever. It pays the bills. {No it doesn’t. I do it for free. [Can anyone help with that? For real?]}) She’s probably also wondering why I keep saying, “Shower” to all the drivers. And I’m sure “shower bag” makes even less sense.

And while we didn’t run into any sketchy motel workers, I did see this. Which is almost the same thing.

And no riding giant turtles. But there was the camel patrol.

Anyhoo, I’ve been practicing my Minnesota accent for the last few hours. PeachJello isn’t taking too kindly to it. “Are you going to make fun of everyone?”
“Yes. Probably.”

I’m sure the first “Yah. Dontcha know.” will be met with fisticuffs from her old friends. “Had enough yet, Ohio boy?” To which I’ll reply, “Yah, sure. You betcha.”