Double Your Pleasure. Double Your Fun.

Sir, would you please go? Sir? Sir?? Sir??? SIR. HELLOOO?!?

Sometimes only an hour for lunch isn’t enough time to get everything done. If I have several errands, I’ll usually feel the need to drive fast to get it all over with. Ok, I usually ignore the speed limit anyway. However, I was feeling specifically rushed today. So rushed that I didn’t have time for idiots.

Sir, would you please turn already???

I wouldn’t say I had a small car. It’s a Grand AM and so it’s average size. However, it really doesn’t matter when you’re up against one of those big SUV’s.

I’m sitting at a stop sign at Merrill Drive and Arcade Drive. I would love to turn right onto Merrill. Would absolutely LOVE to turn right. But there’s a big white SUV right next to me in the turn left lane. It’s blocking my view of on-coming traffic. I can’t see worth a flip and this guy is just sitting there. His face is turned the other way, so I’m assuming that he’s waiting on a car... ASS.U.M.E.

I sit there staring at him. It’s like he’s in a trance. He’s eyes are open, but he’s barely moving. Then I realize it. The problem is solved. The puzzle piece has been found.

Coming into my view on the left are two girls jogging down the sidewalk across the street. Very tan. Very fit. Verrrrry blond. Wearing short shorts and tank tops. Their pony-tails swinging side to side like they're in a shampoo commerical. These two-double-mint-girls are making this guy’s eyes pop out. This man isn’t waiting on a freakin car. He’s a freakin perv. And he’s making ME wait while he gets his jollies. THIS I will not take.

I glare back over to him and he’s just sitting there watching these sluts…er… nice, young, virginally pure ladies… jog down the street. He has NO clue that I’m even there. I’d be surprise if he had any clue where HE was. I start getting pretty ticked at the whole thing and so I just lay in on my horn.

HONK!!!!!!!!

I swear he jumped five feet. He looked at me with that “what? huh? what?? me?” look. We had a good few seconds of eye contact when I mouthed the words “Move Your Car, You Perv.” Well, maybe the “you perv” part was only in my head.

Here’s the deal: I know these were hot chicks. I can recognize “hot” when I see it. I even appreciate hotness. Really. They obviously take care of their well toned bodies. If I asked them, I’m sure they would even give me the name of their plastic surgeon that did their boob jobs that their daddies bought them for their 18th birthday. I mean, I even thought “wow” when I saw them and I’m as straight as they come.

If it were a hot guy jogging down the sidewalk, you bet your booty that I’d take notice. However, I would like to think that I wouldn’t hold up traffic behind me and beside me because of him. I’d more likely get out my digital and take a picture so I can reflect on it later when I’m bored. That’s more my style. Photogenic stalking. It’s safer and they can’t arrest you for it.

Maybe he wouldn’t have ticked me off if I hadn’t been in such a hurry. I probably would have laughed at the whole thing if I didn’t need to get back to work. Little did he know that the crazy woman in the Grand AM next to him was a blogger.