Caterwauling

I don’t know what’s in the water, but the usual spectacular level of storytelling on the Internet (in my realm, anyway — I make no claims outside of the people in my newsfeed) has been off-the-charts lately. Looking for some seriously can’t-miss entries? Then I urge you to check out this sampling:

My hands-down favorite story is Tiff’s true tale about sharing Nationals tickets with a colleague and his amazing friend who went to unparalleled lengths to pay back the kindness that is just in her nature. I want to marry that guy!

I was a first-time visitor to this blog, and this is what I found. And wow. It contains not only an observation that the Web has become the new backyard fence over which we share ourselves with our neighbors, but also how we are shifting the culture ourselves and defining our place in our generation, our community. Via Mom’s Daily Dose.

Valbee’s post on running into her beloved and, sadly, belated husband’s hospice nurse has been stuck in my head since the day she posted it. I don’t comment on people’s blogs very often (I’m lazy) and I didn’t in this case, but I wanted to extend a virtual bushel of hugs to her.

Sabre experiences the pain of “Cell Phone Induced Stupidity.” To read it is to hear her telling the story. OMG, I’m surprised she let the woman live. My mom just got a big ol’ dent in her car too thanks to some asshole not knowing how to operate his vehicle. What’s in the water these days? Toxins we can live with. It’s the big swig of idiocy that people are taking that makes the rest of us wonder why we’re the ones getting the tickets and the bad luck instead of THEM!!!

On the lighter side, I’ve gotta send some lovin’ to Trouble, with her occasional — but always glamorous, tasteful and just downright appreciated — Happy HNT series (Half-Nekkid Thursdays, for the uninitiated). HAWTTTTT!!!

“Someone Who,” by EJ Takes Life is a wonderful toast to finding an amazing friend in this lonely city. Her first line, “Hard as it is to get a boyfriend in Washington, it may be harder to get a girlfriend,” is the most universal thing I’ve heard in forever. Via D.C. Blogs.

And in just, well, DUH news, the WaPo posits that “In Today’s Rat Race, the Most Overworked Win.”

OK, so that last one wasn’t found on a blog. But I would gander that it’s shown up in some non-typed conversations! 😉

My favorite comedienne is going to be at GWU Friday night. What I wouldn’t give to have the cash ($30 is hard to come by at this time of the month) and certainty that I’d actually make it there on time. …

I was just looking at my work calendar when I realized that I scheduled my vacation on a day that I’m supposed to be in training. GDI GDI GDI!!!!

I took the vacay prior to a work trip, as I couldn’t take it after the trip because I have to be back for training. But genius me forgot about the five-week training in general.

I really, really hate myself right now.

I’ll figure it out. Meaning, I have now two flights to fucking shuffle. Gee, like money grows on trees around here. I don’t mean to imply I am not paid well for my efforts. I am — when you look at the gross pay. It’s just when the gubmint gets their share, I’m down almost a fucking comma. I am seriously considering killing off the healthcare and/or the 401(k) so I can make ends meet, although ponder the irony of paying into Social Security when it’s not going to be there for me yet not paying into my own retirement fund. Brilliant, Goddess. Seriously.

Look, if the government wants to hijack a third of the income that I work hard for, the least it can do is give armor to the troops fighting the war I don’t agree with and not waste money fighting useless battles (like against gay marriage and abortion). Is that so much to ask?

I hate state troopers. I have filed more police reports and PFAs than a girl has a right to, and I’ve been laughed out of the precinct almost every time. But go five miles above the speed limit, and suddenly they think they’ve found a use for themselves. Twirl your dicks around elsewhere, bastards. I ain’t impressed.

You know, it takes a REALLY long time to get anywhere in D.C. when you’re driving the speed limit. You might get clipped or wiped off the road or KILLED if you’re not speeding, but shit, you can’t try to live AND manage to avoid an altercation with the po-po.

Even though I live in the city, I run all my errands in the ‘burbs. So I was in the land of horrible drivers, Maryland, and headed back to D.C., going south on the 270-Spur — a road I’ve traveled THOUSANDS of times and can drive in a comatose state — and I was in the far-right lane when a cop on the far-LEFT shoulder jumps out in the middle of the fucking freeway and waves at me to come over.

(Not the first time I’ve had that happen. They have a death wish.)

Seriously, bumper to goddamned bumper traffic. I was going 65 in a 55 — exemplary behavior on my part. I was going with traffic and was careful not to floor it because I got a ticket there the last time, only going north instead.

I started to try to merge left, but that looked to be a death wish as I had someone in my blind spot.

So I kept going.

About a half-mile up the road, I saw a hole I could have pulled into, but come the fuck on, was I going to BACK UP a half-mile in the shoulder? I think not. I wasn’t gonna jam on my brakes when there were 40 cars behind me. Oh HELL no.

I could see the cop staring at me as I hightailed it away. Um, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, to my knowledge. And you can checkpoint us all you want, but telling someone to merge from the far right to the far left? A recipe for a fucking 10-car pileup.

You know, we have cameras everywhere. And if you use your radar gun to prove I’m speeding, for god’s sakes, mail me the fucking ticket — don’t make me wreck my poor little car and end up in traction so you can humiliate me roadside. You know, that’s a dangerous stretch of road, as it’s where Democracy Boulevard traffic dumps in and then the whole kit ‘n’ kaboodle merges into the Capital Beltway.

I hope to God that he was pointing at someone else, but I doubt it. But I definitely want my day in court, if so. He did grab the guy beside me, but he was a LOT closer to the shoulder than I was. The po-po was like a fucking umpire, pointing everywhere and shouting. I’d assumed there was an accident when I saw him directing traffic. By the time I actually realized that, no, he’s walking out in the middle of the highway for kicks, I was long gone.

I know they want to catch speeders, but buddy, you can’t pull over every car on 495. And pulling out every third car from any lane? Not such a bright fucking idea, either. Especially those in the right (or, SLOW) lane. Why not pull over the idiot who was killing himself to prove he could pass me by damn near clipping my front end in a grand gesture of “Look, I was just behind you and now I’ve cut you off!”?

If you’re not going to protect me, then for God’s sake, don’t piss me off. And do NOT put me in a situation in which I have to choose between jeopardizing myself and/or getting a bigger ticket for failure to comply.

Fuck you, dumbass. See you in court.