Fuck Kansas

That's right. Fuck it. I don't know what I ever did to piss it off, but it sure has it out for me.

I woke up this morning at 7AM to get to the airport, so I didn't get much sleep last night. By the time I drifted off, we were somewhere over the middle of the country. I slept for roughly half an hour until I was shaken awake by some pretty good turbulence. I took a look at the flight map on the screen in front of me and lo and behold, we'd just passed from Missouri into Kansas.

It wasn't all bad though. At one point during the turbulence, the plane did that thing where it dropped suddenly and an Asian lady sitting a few rows behind me let out a shriek. I giggled. Was it worth the turbulence? Sure. But I was still mad at Kansas for waking me up.

Traffic: God's Way of Saying F*ck You

There is one thing I hate more than anything else.

OK, maybe I don't hate it more than being tasered at a baseball game or having an eel shoved up my rectum, but it's close.

I absolutely hate traffic. I've tried to understand why it happens and I still can't wrap my head around it. To me, it just seems like the 1990 Nissan Altima that is stopped in front of me should just drive faster. I honk, I bang on the steering wheel, I yell obscenities out of the window and I even blast hardcore rap music in order to bother the surrounding cars enough to move away from me but none of it works.

What I know about traffic is the following...