CatDecenzo’s Weblog

Just some mundane madness

DWIs – Driving Whilst Invisible

eviltwinI’m at odds with my evil twin sister….her name is Bee Otch.

I was just driving along patiently sitting in traffic the other day when Bee raised her ugly head and growled loudly in my left ear, “Why do short people drive so freakin’ slowly??”

“What are you talking about, Bee? You’re generalizing,” I said.  “Now be nice. Anger will get you nowhere and won’t make the traffic go any faster.”

“OK,” she says with a wad of vitriolic spit flinging onto my windshield, “Is it me, or is it not a scientific fact that a driver’s height is in direct freakin’ proportion to the extension of their short legs, times the non-existent exertion of said leg’s attached foot on the accelerator!?”

“I’m starting to see a pattern here,” she says, pounding her fist on my clavicle.  “If I cannot see that hand-grippin, short-shit driver’s head in front of me because her head does not extend higher than the headrest, it’s a sure thing she’s going to be driving under the speed limit and pissing me off. She should have her license yanked from her Hello Kitty purse!! Gawd!!”

shoeextension“There should be a height restriction,” she says, “just like there’s an ‘eyeglasses’ restriction – on everyone’s license. And it should say, ‘Drivers whose nostrils are in – or directly opposite of – the same spatial vicinity as the horn area of the steering wheel shall not occupy a vehicle unless accompanied by four telephone books for support. Leg or shoe extensions and increased reaction time also required.’ “

As I crept up behind short lady’s car which was moving at 17 miles per hour, I felt my head spin a la Linda Blair and had this sudden urge to lay on my horn, but then I would be giving in to Bee’s madness.  She really needs to take an anger management class and learn to be more patient.

♥ But I do love her, and sometimes I even give her the upper hand when Wimpy Minnie Me needs to kick some commuter ass.

March 27, 2009 Posted by | Random | , , , , | 4 Comments

On a Wing and a Tire

flyingpigI need $200,000.  No, really. I know that would normally only happen when pigs fly, but seriously, I want my car to fly. And for a mere $200,000, I can live out my dream.

My father, also known as Sky King for his prowess as a pilot both pre-war, during two wars, and post war, was blessedly cursed with four daughters who would rather play with our Barbies than show any interest whatsoever in his airplanes, stories of airplanes, his stash of airplane magazines or rides in his airplane. Luckily for him, a son came along, and dad finally nabbed my poor brother in his web of glue-sniffing-model-airplane-building and all other activities aeronautique…

I think one reason I dislike roller coasters to this day is from some buried emotional trauma I experienced sitting in the cockpit of my dad’s airplane as a child.  During one flight, he mumbled something about “testing” the gas tanks.  Well, in order to test them, he shut down everything and we descended quickly while he revved everything back up.  “He’s kidding, right?” I thought to myself as we dropped from the sky like a free-fall ride at an amusement park.  Meanwhile, my peanut butter sandwich was jammed somewhere between my esophagus and my tonsils, and my milk was jettisoning out of my nostrils.

It wasn’t until I was older that I learned to finally relax and fully enjoy the bonding time that flying enabled me to have with my father, just the two of us, with him pointing out various landmarks and me soaking up the colors and imagery of the beautiful landscape.  Soaring through the skies, like a bird finally uncaged, is like no other sensation. And deep inside, I’m a bit jealous that my brother was the only one who was the beneficiary of his flying knowledge, while we girls learned how to iron (yoke first) and make a really good meatloaf. And I do make a damn good meatloaf…

flyingcar1Well, move over, Amelia, because as soon as I can afford it, I’m buying a Terrafugia, which in Latin, means “escape from land.” Although the name doesn’t slip off the tongue as sweetly as Jag or Beemer and sounds like something my Italian mother-in-law used to whip up in the kitchen, with my “roadable aircraft” I could fly up to 400 miles on a single tank of gas at a cruising speed of 115 mph in the air, or fold my wings up like an umbrella and hit the highway.

OK, so I’ll still need a pilot’s license….and, oh, a major long driveway….and, oh yeah, how about them blind spots!? This would give us the option to now have “air rage,” but how are they going to position stop signs in the sky?? And what does one do when that cute officer asks you to, “Kindly step out of the car, ma’am.” ??

Shoot, there goes my envisioning being able to hit the beach this summer without sitting in 25 miles of backups on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, or legally parking on the rooftop of the closest DSW.

Oh, well, I guess Wilbur and Orrville had a lot of naysayers and kinks to get out of their contraption also.  One should always dream.

But if this does ever come to fruition, this could give a whole new meaning to the term “flipping someone the bird.”

March 20, 2009 Posted by | Random | , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Play Nice with Your Toys

Owwwww. Just when you thought it was safe to go nosying around in your husband’s Craftsman tool chest….

sabersawA woman in Maryland got a little too comfortable with hubby’s saber saw blade the other day, and was rushed to the emergency room after getting a little tired of her old used sex toys.

Seems Kinky Karl and the Little Missus decided to screw on (excuse the pun) her old standard play toy to his high-powered saw and pulled a Tim Allen in her nether regions. Unfortunately, the worn plastic from the aforementioned “old” toy gave way and..well, let’s just say she invented a really good new excuse for sick leave!

ANSIz87.1

ANSIz87.1

The question remains whether he was smart enough to use his safety glasses and…did he use a straight 115V?  And I wonder if they’ll be filing a lawsuit against Black & Dicker…I mean Decker…anytime soon since the manufacturer didn’t specify in bold bright letters, “Not for use in thickets and underbrush.”

Collective ignorance can be a pain in the ass…I mean.. in the kaslapka.

March 11, 2009 Posted by | Random | , , , , | 1 Comment

Barbie, you still da bomb!

barbieWow, Barbie turns 50 this year.  Well, Happy Birthday, Cougar! She’s not only got tits, she’s got tats now!! Yes, parents, Barbie now comes with a tattoo gun for little tykes to embellish the botoxed babe to their heart’s content.  The gangsta sign on her left breast must be going over great with the parents out there.  I wonder if she’s going to have her lip pierced soon, or her…um.. lips pierced soon..ew.

I remember the luxury of getting only one Barbie during my entire childhood, and I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  But, now, it’s like chocolates…so many in the box that it just takes all the delight out of savoring just one. There’s your bad-to-the-bone Harley Barbie Bitch, with burn marks on the inside of her legs from spreadin’ and strapping them across that hot engine..and the black-wanna-be Barbie with detachable weaves and her very own bottles of Shea Butter and Coconut Oil (Chris Brown Abusive Bro sold separately).

Now, I don’t know who these no-lifers are who are complaining that Barbie gives girls a bad body image.  It obviously hasn’t worked, seeing how the obesity rate in young girls has gone through the roof. I’m thinking that Barbie never ate three servings of Chicken Nuggets and drank Cokes sitting on her little tush all day texting Ken on her Blackberry. So are these same parents worried that “Career Barbie” might influence their little princess to become some viperous, independent woman?  Wooops, too late!!!

barbieshoesI do have to admit that there is one bad, bad evil I think malingered in my psyche after growing up playing with my Barbie.  OMG, she had 6,540,342,402,300 pairs of shoes!!! I have a bumper sticker on my car that says, “I brake for DSW.”

barbieandkenBut all in all, I think Barbie is not such a bad influence on our daughters.  After all, Ken has always just been an accessory, rather than a necessity. There’s a Barbie who says, “Math is hard.”  Hell, yeah, it is! You try figuring the per unit cost of each accessory, the dimensions of the 79 closet shelves you need, and the impact her $3 million worth has had on the toy industry.

And she’s scratching that dumb head of hers all the way to the bank…

March 10, 2009 Posted by | Random | , , , , , , | Leave a comment