To The Man Driving His LawnMower Out Into The Middle Of The Highway


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You had a pretty close brush with death there, Bucko. That person who swerved while going eighty miles an hour was me. The person refraining from thrusting a middle finger your way, was also me. I know, I thought the thrusting of the entire splayed hand out the window infinately classier that the lone finger. If you think about it, I was kind of flicking you off five times over.

I digress. Back to the topic at hand, which would be you driving a piece of slow moving lawn manicuring equipment out onto the highway. Instead of taking the obvious route of You-Will-Probably-Get-Run-Over-And-If-You-Don't-Suffer-Life-Ending-Injuries-
Your-Face-Might-Get-Disfigured Lecture, I will just give you a quick How-Could-You-Endanger-The-Hood-Of-My-Car Peptalk. Because really, those geese I ran over awhile back, did enough damage. I don't need your excess belly fat gumming up my undercarriage. Or even worse, I would hate to smell burning human flesh. Please! Think a little here!

That's it. No scathing words or swear words directed to your obviously slightly deranged self. Just the quick note from the neighbor who would appreciate the machinery driving be saved for times when she isn't on the highway.

That's all! Cheers!

--Porkchop

P.S. I hope all your cars are ruined by flying wombats, you fat careless bastard.


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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.


I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


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