When we were all teenagers, four of us–me, my sister, our cousin Teresa, and her friend Julie–agreed on one thing in particular: we were definitely not going to “grow up.”

Well, it seems like Julie did, possibly something to do with having three kids (she’s only a year older than I am…yikes…). Rianna’s on the edge. And Teresa and I…it’s not easy, but we’re fighting back, and trying to “rescue” the other two by dragging them along with us. Most notably we’re working on WARP again; see Teresa’s post for more details on that.

Is it a little bit silly? Well…yeah…no sillier than the idea of paying someone to talk to you for an hour about how crazy you are though. The thing is, all this responsible adult crap pretty much sucks…I like teaching, I’d do it for free if I didn’t have bills, but having to be anywhere and do anything on someone else’s schedule, well, let’s face it, no one feels like it every day. So, I figure, I can either have a full-on “is this really the dream I signed up to chase OMG get me a freaking refund immediately with sprinkles” quarterlife crisis, or I can trade my Responsible Adult character sheet in for an elvish mage or something now and then.

It’s the end of spring break.  I have to stand for hours tomorrow.

I wasn’t even doing anything that should’ve been a problem–I was looking out the window, and turned slightly.  However, the universe, in its hatred of me, knocked my knee to the side, causing my foot to rock to the side, causing my ankle to make a “wait, I don’t bend that way” small popping sound, causing me to hop onto the other foot and swear.

It’s not hurt bad enough to warrant a sick day, particularly since I don’t have any saved up at the moment.  But, I can tell it’s going to be obnoxious.

I have no problem with people trying to do healthy stuff. I toy with the idea off and on myself, though I never seem to have a calm and peaceful enough life, so that I can worry about things like what kind of carbs I’m putting in my mouth, for more than a few days at a time, so it doesn’t stick.

I also have no problem with Taco Bell. Heck, this post is happening because I went to Taco Bell.

I just have a problem with…ridiculousness.

Usually I go through the drive-through and eat in my car, listening to my own radio instead of Taco Bell’s, but because the drive-through line was long and the dining room was empty, I ate in the dining room today. During that time, I happened to look up, through the window on the other side of which was the drive-through line.

In the drive-through line, a woman was reading a book on her steering wheel…which would have been fine, except…it was something about a Fiber Diet. This led me to consider the fiber content of most of what Taco Bell offers. While I don’t happen to have memorized the nutrition facts of everything, I know that there can’t be much in, say, the nacho cheese sauce. I would guess that she would’ve gotten more fiber by eating the book instead of reading it at Taco Bell.

I have nothing against healthy stuff and nothing against Taco Bell, but the two, when juxtaposed, are laughable.

Dust-repelling car wax or polish or some other stuff that can be put on a car.  Does it exist, and where can I get it?

…get you a job

If I’m in heavy traffic and there’s no passing lane, I will not be able to speed up to make you happy.

If you keep tailgating, I’ll slow down 5 MPH. It’s called leaving enough stopping distance to not be middle car in a pileup if the car in front of me has to stop.

If you keep tailgating more so that the grill of your Compensator is the only thing in my rear view mirror, I’ll slow down another 5 MPH. I can do that all day. Obviously it bothers you more than me.

If you pass me as soon as the lane splits and makes a passing lane, you might not believe this but I really have no problem with that. Unlike you, I have nothing to prove as long as you’re not trying to push me around.

If you have your front passenger give me the bird, I’ll roll my eyes. Good for you, you have a finger.

If it happens again, I’ll do the exact same thing. If you drive like a normal human being, on the other hand, we can both drive with the flow of traffic. You pick; my car has air and a radio, so I don’t care which.

To avoid the wrecking yard where the guy was such a jerk when I tried to buy the same thing from them a couple months ago, I paid an extra $10 and drove an extra 2 miles, but I got the control box and plugged it partway in (I’ll figure the rest out later).  Now my car has air conditioning again, and I retained my pride.

Playing with a MySpace profile made my sister think she knew web coding, when she didn’t even know what I meant by FTP.  She’s on the real internet now, let the reeducation begin.

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