Aren’t you excited? As it turns out, even the unofficial voice for the lazy American male (me) has to get off his wide white keester every once in a while and earn a little cash. Which I did. Now I’m over it.
In case you’re curious, I was spending too much time at Universal sifting through dailies from an old 1994 NBC show called “Earth 2.” I was looking for deleted scenes and outtakes for a possible feature on the much anticipated DVD release. I’m now a self appointed expert on the show. When you consider how many takes of each scene I’ve had to watch, I’ve seen every episode at least 5 times. And I’ve learned a few things, Antonio Sabato Jr. has a hard time acting, Clancy Brown seems like a cool guy, and Debrah Farentino can commit to even the most asinine dialogue.
But I did leave this latest job with an overwhelming urge to commit vehicular manslaughter. But I can’t tell if that’s because of the horrible traffic on the 101, the absurd storylines from the show, or if it’s just because I had to sit and stare at Rebecca Gayheart for a week.
I guess I’ll never know for sure.
Tanya did a fine job with the blog while I was away. But she had plenty to talk about. You know, when I’m running the stupid site nothing happens. Lindsay Lohan’s dad hit somebody or something. But Tanya got Terri Schiavo. Lucky.
I suppose the case isn’t over yet, though. I’m sure I’ll have something real interesting to say about it still. And plus, now I’ve got Michael Jackson and his recent statements to the “press” (Jesse Jackson).
Evidently, Michael’s the victim of a conspiracy. The evil people of the world are after his copyright holdings. Not to mention they’re taking him down because…and this is news…he’s black!
Excuse me?
Yes, Michael Jackson is black. When it’s convenient. Of course Michael Jackson’s black. No matter how hard he tried to cover it up, the world was never duped. No one really cared.
I should rephrase that. Some people did care. But most of them were African American. They were disenchanted with Michael because he seemed to be denying his heritage. Which I always thought was a crock anyway. I never thought that Michael was denying his roots. I just thought he was an image obsessed man-child. It had nothing to do with being black or white. He even wrote a song about it.
But now, it’s official. Michael’s back and blacker than ever. And he’s comparing himself to Nelson Mandela!
Nelson Mandela? I can’t be the only one in America who sees a few differences in the two men, right? Mandela fought for the rights of his oppressed people. Michael fought for what? The rights to the entire Beatles catalogue? The right to make the most expensive music video ever produced?
What I can’t believe is that people like the Reverend Jesse Jackson, a respected leader, just sit there and nod. Michael may not be a child molester but I know one thing…he’s no Nelson Mandela.
Man, it’s good to be back. My spleen in feeling better already.
Fun Fact: I am now officially a recovering road-rager. Yes, it’s true. Normally I’m a very mild-mannered person. I bitch a lot, but I rarely get all loud about it.
Unless I’m driving.
I don’t know what it is. I’m pretty sure that it has something to do with the complete fucking morons with whom I am forced to share the road. But there may be something else to it as well. The anonymity of being in a car? Something emboldens me to act like an ass on the freeway.
I should be more specific. I don’t drive like an asshole (most of time, Tosha and Jared would beg to differ, I evidently scarred them for life the last time they hopped in the old Echo). I try to be a very courteous driver. I don’t pass people in the turn lane, I don’t cut people off. I don’t cheat with the “exit only” lanes. I don’t double park. I just yell like hell at the jerk asses that do.
And I yell loud.
Sometimes I yell a little too loud. I almost had to throw down with a pump-stealer at the gas station and I ruined an innocent woman’s morning the other day on my way to Universal. Oh, sure, I only yelled “what the fuck are you doing you stupid bitch!” At the top of my black lungs. But what I neglected to realize was that both of our windows were rolled down.
Plus, when you’re driving, it’s also hard to remember that the person you’re yelling at is actually, most of the time, only about 10 feet away from you.
Needless to say, she heard me. Now it wasn’t her fault. She cut me off. But the real culprits in this case were the inept idiots who planned the turn lanes at Overland and the i10 freeway. They’re the real villains.
Well, them and me. Because I let my road rage make me yell at a poor woman who was stuck in just as much traffic as I was. And the look on her face was horrible. She didn’t know whether to yell or cry. She looked very hurt. And I felt like the worst human on the planet.
So now I’m working out my demons. I’m trying to get my road yelling under control. And if you’re a lady who drives a red car, has unfortunately large hair, and was called a “stupid bitch” on the Overland overpass last Wednesday morning…I’m sorry. I was the biggest jerk on the road that day. Horrible.
I’m well on my way to recovery. But if you’re reading this and you’re the type of person who thinks “I’m just going to cut this guy off ‘cause I’m in a hurry,” or “I wouldn’t normally pass in the turn lane, but the traffic is so bad today…” keep this in mind; just because I’m going to try to stop yelling, doesn’t mean that you can drive like a selfish asshole.
I may not yell at you, but the horrible names I’ll call you in my head would make Kevin Smith blush.
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