Greetings darls, hope you have all adjusted and got over your time-lag since the clocks moved back a whole hour this weekend leaving the whole country in utter chaos. For any of you who aren't up to date with daylight saving, you may want to do some light googling as it has been ongoing since 1895 so shouldn't be too much of a shock to the system.
Moving on. Tonight I wanted to discuss things along the lines of cars/traffic/road rage. I can't comment too much on other people and their shit driving after encountering 3 separate incidents involving hitting a tree, ploughing down a Nepalese girl in a car-park and sliding into a lorry then spinning into a wrought iron fence. However, I'm all for a bit of hypocrisy so whatevs trevs.
I do believe in karma. I purposely let people go at junctions so that one day when I'm in a rush someone will let me go. This has not yet happened, but I am adamant it will. Maybe if I didn't judge the people I decide to let go, karma might not be such a bitch. Old people, never. If you let someone over the age of 65 out in front of you, you may as well terminate your life then and there. You'll never get to the place you needed to go because they will drive about as fast as a paraplegic can run a marathon. The only people I will let go is people who are above a 7.5 (in summer when sunglasses are involved this can be a tricky judgement) or if they have a nicer car than me.
I'm not a patient person, I never will be. So when things slow down my day like traffic, or people driving slowly or being unnecessarily hesitant I do kick off a tad. One issue I have is when women (and yes, we are a lot shitter at driving than men) drive round in their 4 x 4's (which they obviously need for all the off-roading they're going to be doing in the Hampshire suburbs) but think they're driving a bus and can't get through a gap about 8 metres wide. If I counted all the times I shouted "YOU'RE NOT DRIVING A FUCKING BUS" I would be very good at counting. I also find it very annoying when I'm in a car park trying to find a space to do something important like go to the shop to buy some chicken dippers, that some idiotic person will spend 12 years trying to get into a space because 25 years after passing their driving test and being on the UK roads they can't reverse park.
My favourite thing about driving is watching other people in their cars. Not because I'm a large stalker but just because people think they're in an opaque box which they can see out of. Literally one of the best days of my life was when I was driving to work and saw one of my ex boyfriends driving in the opposite direction picking his nose. Admittedly I'm a big culprit when it comes to singing along in the car. There's been plenty of times when I've been stopped in traffic and been clocked singing to various songs, including Taylor Swift and Drake. I genuinely think I'm black the majority of the time I'm driving (anyone who has been on a long car journey with me can vouch for this, I can rap along to ALOT of albums).
Road rage is one thing that literally winds me up to the extent where I get so angry. I think this will just be much funnier if I tell the story of when road rage nearly ended up in me being nearly murdered by a man in north London. I was with my wolfpack (Hannah Justine and Ami) we were going to see The Saturdays (I was Frankie's stunt double for the evening) and we were trying to find somewhere to park. I was at a junction of a one way system when the car behind me started beeping. As I drove on to the one way system, Hannah was hanging out my window shouting 'fuck offfff you c*ntttt' and I think my middle finger made an appearance. Next thing we know this car overtakes me blocks the road forcing me to do an emergency stop. Out steps a man approximately 6ft 4 and weighing about 16 stone with a metal bar. Justine and Ami are in a panic at this point, Justine is shouting 'REVERSSSSE' me being me decided to front this one out. At this stage the only reason I can think of why this man wanted to kill me was because he thought I was a boy with my short hair. In a moment of stupidity I asked him if he was wearing a turban (I later realised it was just a usual day-wear hat) then shouted WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING. He retreated and got back into his car and drove off. So the only thing this taught me, was to front everything out until the person leaves you alone. This lesson did not work well in Cardiff (see previous post).
Anyway, this was a half arsed attempt of qualms on the road.
