Women Drivers – An Oxymoron?
I know, I know, you’re all getting sick of hearing about how bad women drivers are. But they keep staying bad. And I had to laugh this morning on my way to work when I saw an overturned SUV in the middle of an intersection.
Now I would never laugh at someone’s misfortune or injury. But I gladly laugh at their stupidity. Because I am of the opinion that 100% of accidents can be avoided with defensive driving. You might not be able to prevent someone REAR-ENDING YOU, 
but the person behind you COULD HAVE PAID ATTENTION (what a novel idea) and prevented it themselves. So when some pompous SUV driving idiot tries to make a light when it’s yellow – and they’re still a hundred yards out – they end up running through an intersection, phone glued to head, on a red light. They deserve to be plowed into. Teach their ass a lesson.
Chicken had this to say about Nelly Furtado: “Her voice will be the death of me.” Well, I suppose her voice is a little edgy, but I’ve found that’s exactly what I like about it. It’s definitely unique. And only when she wants it to sound like that does it even get that way. When she’s singing some of her slower songs, her voice is soft and sexy. I’ve found it to be like the Dallas Cowboys, whereas you either love it or you hate it. But if you’re a music-minded person, you’ll dig the album in spite of her edgy vocal quality – or perhaps because of it. She’s got class.
Otherwise, how would they all know when we screw up? And you notice whenever you’ve been single for a while and you finally find someone worth checking into, that’s when they all come to call. When it rains it pours, gentlemen. They all know. It’s like a little alarm in their heads go off saying “Johnnie’s got a girl now! Set tits to stun! Go get him girls!” And they do. They all come around. But you never see that shit happening when you’re single. Well, unless you’re like me. But that’s beside the point.
I was sitting at a bar with my cousin and a friend this weekend having some beers, catching up on stuff. Well, we’re kind of regulars there, so we get on pretty well with the bartender. Anyway, she comes up and says, “Remember little Tiffany? The singer?” I was like, “Yeah. Of course. I used to adore her.” She says, “Well check this out,” and flops the magazine down on the bar. Lo and behold, there in front of me are Tiffany’s voluptuous breasts. I was disgusted. I can’t stand looking at women’s breasts, you know? Especially when they are that large and round and soft, and when I used to be infatuated with said person.
We were driving – actually (again) she was driving [had I been driving (being a more competent driver altogether) we probably wouldn’t have had the experience in the first place] and she cut some lady off in a Buick. My friend drives like a blind, retarded lemur with no legs in the first place, so riding with her is a real treat. You can see in the passenger floorboard, the carpet is kind of worn out from her passengers slamming on imaginary brakes. I’m a pretty laid-back passenger and not much scares me, but when I’m riding with her, I can’t watch the road. Frankly, she scares the great green shit out of me. You are guaranteed an ulcer in twenty minutes if she drives you through downtown Dallas traffic. Not that I would ever actually ride with her through downtown Dallas during traffic.
Why do hot women like this always end up with nerds and losers? I mean, I’m a nerd. I know how to fix computers and I read a lot of books. But I don’t look like one, you know? At least I think I don’t. But I’m certainly not a loser! But seriously, I saw this chick the other day and she was hotter than a jalapeno on fire in Texas on the sidewalk in August. Or something. And the dude she was with was a short, oddly lumpy, frog-faced dude who looked like he never showered. What in The Elephant’s name is that shit all about?