You suck. I’m right, you’re wrong. No question.
I was in a rush the other day to get to one of the schools where I teach video. Came to a red light, car in front of me. The light changed green, he didn’t move. I gave him the complimentary “get your head out of your ass” second to return to reality, still no movement. I tapped the horn and gently cursed his stupidity. No movement. I lay on the horn and insulted his beat-up car, called him a jackass, and wondered why no one was as good a driver as I was and why I had to put up with such imbeciles. No movement. Argh! MOVE, YOU MOTHER FU… He looked at me in his rearview mirror. What’s that? I turned down the radio. I looked to the left. An ambulance was approaching. Oh. I looked down at my lap and created a look on my face that I hoped said, “There’s something wrong with my horn, sorry, didn’t mean to honk at you. Have a nice day!”
I was in a rush the other day to get to one of the schools where I teach video. (Maybe I should leave a little earlier…) I always fill up the tank when I head to Kinzie, since it’s by Midway and gas is cheaper out there. I quickly pulled up to the pump and swiped my credit card. “Invalid zip code.” What? I did it right. Stupid machine. I punched in the zip code again. “Invalid zip code.” You stupid Midway gas station. I rolled my eyes at the cashier window. You stupid stupid cashier, why the f can’t you get your stupid machine to work properly? Damn south side. This would never happen on the north side. I punched in the number again, exaggerating each press and muttering a different insult with fingerprint. “Invalid zip code.” FUCK! I slammed my car door, peeled out of the Speedway and sped to the school. All class, all drive home, all stairclimber huffing and puffing, I shook my head at the conspiracy of world against me, and couldn’t understand how me doing exactly what I was supposed to do could result in life not going how it was supposed to go. Argh! Oh. Wait. What number did I… 6-0-6-2-5. Right, that’s right. Wait. No. What’s my zip code? 2-5. Wait. No. That’s when I lived on Wilson. Two years ago. I don’t have the same zip code now. 6-0-6-… oh shit. 5-7.