Yesterday around noon I decided, damn the snow. I want to go to Wal-mart and get an electric wok.
Well, I didn't exactly get that. I bought an electric skillet instead. Made really great fried eggs with it this morning. But I digest...
So on my way back, taking it easy along 16th Ave., I come to a set of lights where the signal is just about to turn green for us. Doesn't some asshole turning left into the lane I'm in decide to race the light. He hits the skids, and his car turns 180 degrees, facing sideways, pointed in the direction he just came from, in front of me and the guy in the lane beside me. Luckily, we had plenty of time to slow down, and let this jerkoff right his car. And when he does, I see his bumper sticker.
"KISS A PILOT".
Terrific. The federal government lets this dickwad fly a plane.
So I'm watching him, wishing I could get in front of him so he could read my bumper sticker, which says "pog mo thon" — "kiss my ass" in Irish Gaelic. As it turns out, I do manage to pass him, as he stays in the westbound lane and I move into the left turn lane at the next intersection. I glance over. Huge beard, giant turban the colour of Big Bird's ass. Really. Welcome to Canada, numb nuts. Get some driving lessons; the temperature occasionally falls below "tropical" here.
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