An in-depth, and let's face it scary, look at how I think and observe the world. I've often been called weird. But what is normal, really? Maybe I'm normal, and all of you are weird.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
My Horn
The horn on my car is pathetic. I'm too embarrassed to even use it. It's this weak, barely audible "beep, beep." But that really doesn't do justice to just how pathetic it is. Every time I hear it, I imagine this weenie, timid little man saying something to the affect of, "Excuse me. Uh, could you please not cut me off like that? I mean, you know, if you feel like it. You don't really have to, if you don't want, but it'd be nice if I didn't have to swerve off on to the shoulder. Not that swerving off on the shoulder is a problem by any means. I just felt bad about the swatch of wild flowers I just took out with my tires. You know, on second thought, just forget I said anything. You're right, it's your road, and I had no business getting in your way. I hope you have a nice day."
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