Man, this morning I got behind a woman in one of those little Ford Escapes. She's in the left lane doing 70, not bad for rush hour on the Long Island Expressway, so I ain't bitching, but she was driving erratically. Fine, don't feel like seeing what it feels like to smash my face into an airbag, so I back off a foot or two to give me some room to swerve or stop should I have to. What's she doing? Her fucking makeup. Oy!
Fine, 70 mph and after a while I'm getting used her driving, okay this is still better than most mornings out here. The middle and right lanes are full of trucks and slow assholes, I'm doing pretty good. And then I wonder, honey, I've been behind you for 20 miles and you're still putting on makeup. She was doing it when I got up behind her and she's continuing to do it, nonstop, for 20 fucking miles.
I'm thinking, honey, you must be fucking ugly. As my exit came up, I pulled right and shot past her and took a good look. Woof! Man, she was so ugly that when she was born they slapped her mama. She fell out an ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. I recommend her setting the alarm clock an hour earlier in the mornings. For all the work she has to do, she shouldn't be doing it at 70.