Road rage & 1990s children's programming

If any of you have ever been in the car with me, you'll know I'm a pretty neutral driver. I do the speed limit, I mumble about how the guy behind me is being a dick, and I just go on my merry way. No road rage, no speeding, nothing. It's the farthest from Vin Diesel you'll ever encounter, actually.

Today on route 9 I see a sedan come peeling up behind me. I glare in my rearview mirror and ignore her. Suddenly I see that she's doing the classic attempt of trying to change lanes to pass me, but lo and behold: all of us are generally doing the speed limit. She's stuck behind my ass.

She starts revving her engine a bit to try and push me to speed up. I stare back in my mirror at her and see a sight that startled me greatly.

She was in her mid 40s, had frizzy orange hair, and a vibrant purple/pink shirt on. My jaw dropped. I knew this woman. Let me tell you: I knew her well.



What happened to sweet Ms. Frizzle to turn her into a raging cunt?

Perhaps she lost her magic school bus since her DUI and never recovered since.

Could it be that her pet dinosaur left her behind with a note that said "thanks for good times, but we've grown apart..."

Maybe her tenure didn't hold out when she didn't recieve all the signed permissions slips and lost one child in a vat of stomach acid.



As I watched her ride the bumper of my car, I gasped in realization of what was really going on. Clearly she was high on methamphetamines, thought she was back in her old magic bus, and was attempting to go on an adventure in my colon.



Not today, Ms. Frizzle. Not today.

Let's document the worst possible day ever.

I have to. It's so hilariously unfortunate. Let's list the ways to infuriate Toni.

1) My medical records are lost and nobody seems to know I exist. The doctor's office tells me they'll contact my pediatrician by today and everything will be fine. I call today: nobody has even bothered. I try calling the pediatrician and she doesn't seem to remember me. I'm the fat kid with weird green eyes and blonde hair. No? Not ringing a bell? Okay. I try my old community college and they tell me "Yeah, we've got them right here. Fax them? Sure, it will take a few days. Oh, wanna come pick them up? Fine, ya antsy prick."

2) My college has me waiting about fifteen minutes for two sheets of paper that say I don't have AIDS.

3) I go to Wappingers, my doctor's office, and they don't seem to remember me from an hour's phone call ago. I get the paperwork settled and my doctor comes out and goes "WAIT. before you leave, we need to talk..."

I shit. A doctor actually wanting to talk to you and showing concern can never be a good thing.

"So, your blood results came back and I'm concerned. I'd like to test you again."

4) I wait 15 minutes in a children's room with a table shaped like a truck. I overhear the doctor say to someone "in there is Antonia, she needs to get bloodwork done again...her results came back, eh...*mumbles softly* and I think we should try again."

I look at the table shaped like a truck again. I want to set it on fire.

5) I give blood again and they tell me to wait and they'll give me results immediately. Immediately becomes 20 minutes. I'm nervous. There's an old lady babbling at me about how great her grandkids are and I'm smiling and imagining her riding the truck table on fire. The doctor walks by and goes "....OH!" and goes back to her office to get the results. Am I really that easy to forget?

I'm told that my results are now perfect and then they admit this to me:

6) They left my bloodwork out for a few hours on Monday and everyone seemed to forget about it, clearly because it is blood that came from ole' forgetable me, so the results came back fucked up. Gotta love efficiency.

I now have all of my medical records set straight and everything filled out for New Paltz. I get in my car to leave and

7) A Fedex delivery truck swings around the corner of the parking lot at a good 35 or 40mph. I scream, jam my breaks, and he misses my side of the car by about a foot. Instead of even glancing down at my car to see where the scream came from and if said screamer is okay, he just goes on his way. I hope he dies of pancreatic cancer.

I get to the post office and fill out my little section of the health report but:

8) I don't have a pen and the only person with one is another babbling old lady, but this one smells bad. So I have to wait for her to finish writing out addresses on five or six packages.

I drive home, get to my garage, look around for anymore potential danger, and sigh a breath of relief as I enter my house.

9) A spider falls on my head.



It's almost three o'clock. I've got hours before this day of the damned is over. Do you think I'll survive? Tune in to find out.

Cherry...cherry...pirate?

I was ringing customers at my monotonous cliche of a front end retail job when a couple walked up to the register doing that "couple" thing - hands in each other's back pockets, smiling - the whole PG 13 romantic comedy. I say hello and I get a cheerful "how are you" back.

Then the girl puts a pregnancy test on the counter.

I double take and think about this for a moment. Everytime I ring someone up for one of these it's a depressing atmosphere. It will be the angry boyfriend, the crying girlfriend, the hungover sleazy looking girl, etc. You name it, it's a bad scene. I could not understand how these two could be so happy right now. I'm pretty sure I had a raised eyebrow the entire time I rang them up.

About fifteen minutes later, it hits me.

I forget that some people actually like having babies. Not every baby is an accident or mistake. Not every couple is forced into marriage by the arrival of a little genetic mutant they call "son" or "daughter."

Personally, I beg to differ. I think children are little hellspawns. Little black, cancerous spots on this sphere we call a planet. Children make me feel like a retail Sisyphus - they knock over everything, I put it back, and they knock it over again. It's neverending.

But humans are meant to procreate and I guess it is nice to see a couple that enjoys what they're nature tells them to. Just caught me offguard. I could end this on nice note, but I'm debating it...let's see if I can resist the temptation of a PS.






PS - Abortions.