Well, I didn't have any nightmares about yesterday's snake. That's cool with me.
On I-95 down here in good ol' Brevard County, the on ramps are nice and long with gradual curves to get you on the highway. Plenty of room for even a twenty year old Hyundai Excel to get up to 70mph and safely merge onto the highway. And I-95 is brutal. You must have nerves of steel.
So why is it I'm always trying to get on the highway behind the knucklehead that only gets up to about 50mph and then just merges over into the highway regardless of the traffic at the time? Cars scatter trying to avoid these morons.
Just tryin' to stay alive on I-95.
This is a good place for some traffic rap.
I hate rap too but the movie Malibu's Most Wanted is hilarious and has an appropriate line:
B-rad: Traffic, traffic, lookin' fo my chapstick. Feelin' kinda car sick. There goes a Ford Maverick.
Good stuff man. B-rad is the shiznitz.
I Sound Like A Girl, but...
I was able to get into some of my older smaller blue jeans today.
Of course I can't sit down until tonight when I get home and take them off, but hey, I'm wearing them.
Just kidding. I actually didn't even have to suck in the ol' gut to fasten them, which is a nice surprise. But that means I could have already been wearing them. Bummer.
And you thought only women got excited about this?
Most guys just don't talk about it. But you're getting the straight scoop here on Least Significant Bits.