I Think Thoughts

Toyota Prius - Making Us All Feel Like A-Holes Since 2001

I never had a car.  I drove my parents' cars growing up - an Isuzu Trooper, Honda Civic, Subaru Forrester and a Honda Accord.  This was all post-Regan and pre-GWB.  The average price of gas hovered around $1 per gallon and MPGs didn't cause stress or poverty - remember how funny it was when your friend's dad's Navigator got 8 miles per gallon and he spent an inordinate amount of time at the Hess station?  401ks and pensions had more value than a happy meal and a half eaten tuna sandwich, bread and milk were affordable and 10% of the population wasn't on food stamps.  Everything was puppy dogs and rainbows.

Then, the price of gas started rising steadily but sharply.  I still didn't have to care because I lived in The City (there's only one, figure it out.)  Americans fought the Middle East from American soil via this Japanese wonder car - The Prius.  Totally cool concept and so Back to the Future minus banana peels and coffee filters.  The Prius' popularity skyrocketed, except among the blind who essentially lobbied for the Prius to be required to use a bell as a hood ornament.  So the price of gas begins to rise and it's suddenly hip to be green.  Those that can afford nice cars buy a Prius to make a statement.  The ML450s and Chevy Tahoes stay hidden in garages or retire to the country estate.  It becomes less acceptable to drive an SUV unless it's a hybrid, but really, it's just become less acceptable to buy nice things.  Oh, and that makes me mad. 

When the CEO drives a Prius and you show up in an SUV, you're the asshole.  If I didn't like Al Gore so much I'd blame him.  It all started with this global warming hoax and the conspiracy between the American government and the the dusty piece of land south-ish of France to haphazardly set the price of a barrel of oil.  I won't pretend to know too much about foreign affairs or geography, but I do know that the Prius has given me an inferiority complex and makes me feel like an asshole when all I've ever done is try to personally stimulate the economy.

I Guess Change was Inevitable

When Boyfriend and I first started dating - I can say that now that it's been a whopping two years - he always asked when I was going to change.  We're still in that pseudo-honeymoon phase where everything is awesome and we fight over stupid shit like me monopolizing the ordering of desserts or sleeping in on Sundays.  I swear we just make things up to squabble about, otherwise things would be too perfect and spontaneously combust one day when trying to decide whether or not we want red or white with dinner - that sounds so pretentious, but it's true.

So Boyfriend will occasionally ask when I'm going to change because I'm obviously too good to be true (seriously, why feign modesty here?)  For example, having no strong MLB affiliation pre-Boyfriend, I became a Phillies fan - good timing, too, with that whole World Series thing.  Same goes for the NFL and the Washington Redskins.  After all, it's more fun to watch the games and and beat Boyfriend in Pick em when I have someone to cheer for (I mean "for whom to cheer," but how obnoxious does that sound?)  He does the same for me - nodding at all the right times when I talk about shoes or the weather because I really care a lot about the weather and I understand how that might get annoying. 

So... Boyfriend and I have grown close and share similar interests, but I can no longer tolerate SportsCenter.  I just don't get it.  The show airs 45 times per day.  The same shit - I'm sorry, "highlights" - all day long.  I guess it's akin to my watching 90210 reruns every weekend on SoapNet, but my memory is so bad it's like brand new information for my brain.  But SportsCenter?  I can no longer sit there and pretend that I enjoy it.  I'd rather have my tongue stapled to the roof of my mouth. 

So how do I tell Boyfriend that I'm so over SportsCenter and sports, in general, for now?  I blog about it.  Sorry Boyfriend, I'm going to need a little more than a month between the end of football and spring training to care about how well Chase is recovering from hip surgery and whether or not JC Romero used performance enhancing drugs. 

Cursing - Good. Bitch - Bad.

Everyone makes New Years Resolutions.  Even the folks who say they don't, do (that's me and that's how I know those liars exist.)  So, I made a couple different resolutions, not your typical "be less fat" and "feed the homeless."  Seriously, some ruts are meant to be permanent.  One of my resolutions is "be less of a bitch."  Another one was "mean it when you curse."  So I don't really curse on this blog because I get the "tsk tsk" from my mom.  Yes, I'm 30 and I care what she thinks.  Also, when I'm President of the Interwebs or some other dubiously awesome position of power, I don't want any of this shit to bite me in the ass like One Night in Paris. 

So the "be less of a bitch" part is doable, yes, but I haven't really committed to it yet.  I think part of it is because I've really committed to the cursing resolution.  For example, I'm at the airport picking up Boyfriend and a little parking nazi comes and stands in front of the car while I'm sitting at the curb because you know that Boyfriend is 3.5 seconds away from the sliding door.  She stands there waving her ticket book, gestures to the parking signs in a completely non-threatening-trying-too-hard-to-be-threatening kind of way.  I took my foot off the brake so the car inched forward, she flinched (muhahahaha) and gave me the "wtf" look.   I'm on the phone with Bacon the whole time, so I hang up in order to clearly articulate to the parking nazi where she can put her ticket book.  Long story short, how can I be less of a bitch when there are so many assholes, sorry, I meant A-holes, out there?

I pulled away from the curb after yelling at the parking nazi that "no, I can't hear that we're on alert level Orange because my goddamn windows are up so get a better sound system."  While doing my lap around the airport (only to return to a less conspicuous place at the curb moments later), I unleashed the most Andrew Dice Clay-I-think-I-may-have-tourettes verbal assault within the confines of my car.  When Boyfriend emerged from the sliding doors moments later, I had my angel face back on and all the remnants of bitch were gone in a sea of C-words and whores.  Now that is zen, my friends.

Mayonnaise - My Reason for Living

People who don't like mayonnaise REALLY bother me.  People who don't like mayonnaise are usually vehemently opposed to its consumption by others in general.  They make comments and get grossed out in the style of an 8 year old.  Mayonnaise is the reason I eat sandwiches.  I'd throw shards of glass on two pieces of bread if there was mayonnaise to be had.  When I found out at the tender age of 26 that chicken salad was really just chicken smothered and dripping in mayonnaise, I couldn't believe what I'd been missing.  But seriously, what are people afraid of?  Who isn't a fan of spoonfuls of deliciousness that have been kissed by god?  Crazy, untrustworthy people, that's who.  Mayonnaise is just oil and egg - I know this because my mom used to make her own with a Mr. Mixer that she bought from an infomercial.  Mr. Mixer made 5 minute mayonnaise and 2 minute milkshakes possible.  Anyway...viva la mayo! 

Awesomest Song Ever - Good Time

Listen to the words.  Focus on the message.  This song makes me smile even when I step in vomit and human feces on my way into work at 8am.