There are a lot of things about people that I don’t like. Some smell bad, some cut me off in traffic, some stand in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store with their cart pushed out away from them, blocking my path to the last pint of Phish Food.
Few, however, make me want to get physical.
Just to be clear here, I’m talkin’ tearing-your-shirt-off-and-pile-driving-bitches-in-the-street physical, not the Olivia Newton John variety.
And as luck would have it, I’ve seen five types of people in the last 12 hours that made me want to pummel them. I’m really proud of myself for not being in jail today.
Not that that was a real concern. I don’t think there’s a judge in the country that wouldn’t look at these guys and say “Well, Justin, you did just shank a random stranger on the street. But shit, look at the guy. Why, if I wasn’t completely naked and a little aroused under this robe, I’d jump over there and beat him with my little mallet thingie. Case dismissed!”
Anyway. Here, in no particular order, are Five People I’d Like to Punch in the Neck:
Smokers with Kids.
I get it. I used to smoke. I understand the urge to light up, how naked you feel walking around without that sweet, sweet cigarette in your hand. I think that the total ban on smoking in public is a bit harsh, especially when it comes to bars.
But get over it. You’ve got kids. You’re not only setting a bad example, but you’re very slowly killing them. You, sir, are a selfish cock.
I see these people all the time. There’s the white-trash lady with six kids squeezed into the late 80s sedan filled with more smoke that Cheech and Chong could ever dream of. Or the douchebag in the wife-beater pushing a stroller while puffing on his Camel. And let’s not forget my personal favorite, the dude at Wal-Mart with his infant in the shopping cart, inches below the lit cigarette hanging out of his Neanderthalish grill.
I don’t give a shit if people want to smoke knowing full well the evidence linking cigarettes to all sorts of fun malodies. That’s fine. Doesn’t bother me.
But when they smoke around their kids? Neck punch waiting to happen.
Cyclists on the Interstate Bridge
Ok, so this one probably only affects me and three other guys, but it’s my fucking blog and my fucking list. Deal.
I live in Vancouver, I work in Portland. I occasionally bike from home to work. There’s a big river in between the two. So, if I want to get from Point A to Point B, I’ve got three options:
- Fly.
Not practical in daylight. Necessary to keep my identity secret. - Swim.
I have to carry work clothes in a bag on the bike. They’d get soaked. Otherwise, I’m totally man enough to swim across the Columbia River with my bike on my back. Totally. - Bridge.
Clearly, number 3 is my only real option.
Unfortunately, that means biking over the Interstate Bridge, an old drawbridge that wasn’t really designed with pedestrian and bike traffic in mind.
There are two paths across that bridge, one on the west side that runs next to southbound traffic, and one on the east side heading with northbound. Looks something like this:
Those paths are pretty narrow, and there’s no room for two cyclists side-by-side. Hell, there’s no room for a cyclist and a pedestrian. If you get two people heading in opposite directions, one has to duck over to the side between the steel girders to make room for the other.
It’s even more complicated by the fact that the bridge is very hill-like, so, in the case of cyclists, one of the people is barrelling downhill while the other is pumping away trying to go up. The first one has to hit the brakes while the second has to stop and lose any momentum he gained.
And when you’re already 10 miles into your commute home at that point, it fucking sucks.
Now, we all know that cyclists are supposed to ride with the flow of traffic, right? So why the fuck is it that I’m constantly running into jack asses on that bridge heading in the wrong direction?
And these aren’t new cyclists. Just yesterday, I had three encounters crossing the bridge on my way home with tards biking on the wrong side, and two of the three were all decked out in too-tight bike shorts and those gawdy, brightly colored shirts with more corporate logos than your typical NASCAR ride.
There’s a simple solution, of course: let me enforce the existing rules by tossing these people into the river. Problem solved. If they’re like this on the bridge, they probably do all sorts of other shit that would irritate you, too. We’d all be better off.
Tie: Idiots Who Can’t Park/Idiots Who Think Their Suburban Can Fit in the ‘Compact’ Space
You know how this goes. Maybe you’re late for work. Or maybe a show. Or maybe the hooker you just picked up charges by the hour. Whatever.
You see what looks like the perfect parking spot and start to turn in… then you notice that the jackass next to you is half over the line, ensuring that, even if you could squeeze in, you’d barely be able to get out of the car Dukes of Hazzard style.
I just don’t understand these people. How fucking hard is it to pull back out and right the ship when you realize that you’ve taken three spaces? Selfish pricks.
As for Suburban-in-the-Compact-spot guy… fuck you. You know you don’t fit. You and your little dick wouldn’t be caught dead in a compact car. That’s why you bought that big piece of shit to begin with. Stop being a cock.
The Friend of Sideways, Upside-Down Visor Guy
Seriously. You look like an God damn idiot. Whoever convinced you this is a good look is not really your friend. You should track those bastards down and beat them for letting you walk around in public looking like such a fucktard.
Rudy
This one:
Though until his RNC speech last night, it was a toss up between that Rudy and this one:
