Road Rage

It seems my day is not complete unless my life is threatened at least once by insane drivers during rush hour traffic.

On my way into the office this morning "Let's Go" by The Cars came on the radio and I'm all: "Yeah! The Cars! Kick Ass! Kick. Ass."

I'm in the passing lane doing 80 mph, easily, when all of a sudden a pick-up truck with a Calvin & Hobbs sticker (the one that shows a rebellious Calvin peeing and flipping the viewer off) decides to inexplicably move into the left lane and brake.

I do irrational things when people cut me off. Some people honk their horns, others yell even though they know deep down inside that the driver of the other car can't hear them, a few loose cannons take out double-barrel shotguns and mow the mother fucker down. I jot down their license plate number and stalk them for a few months, leaving them anonymous pieces of hate mail under their windshield wipers and occasionally slashing their tires.

My therapist said I have anger issues that I need to confront. She also asked me not to tell her what I do to the people I stalk anymore because patient confidentiality only goes so far with the police now-a-days.