Crabby Commuter Chronicles

an ode to potholes (as promised)

2011-02-25T09:52:00.002-05:00

Cuz what fabulous poetry doesn’t begin with these epic lines…

roses are red
violets are blue
annoyingly bumpy potholes
make me have to use the loo

already drank my coffee
and I take that as my cue
so the unexpected turbulence
may cause a small snafu

oh, city, oh, county,
I’m speaking to you
if you can’t find a way to fix these holes
it’s my bladder you’ll answer to

where have i been?

2011-02-10T18:42:00.001-05:00

So I’ve been thoroughly derelict in my commute-dishing duties. The holidays came and went, and with them so did my engine (I suspect). It’s responded to a good dismantling and scrubbing like a frisky puppy – shaking and whimpering, and generally causing a raucous.

I can’t say that I blame it. 200 some miles 5 days per week now for 7 or so months. It’s overworked. It’s burntout.

I thought it’s tolerance for this commute would outlast mine, but apparently “adapt and overcome” comes with a larger price tag when it’s a vehicle’s motivation in question. Other than that, there’s nothing else new to report. Still driving.

However, I will include that snow and ice and the “wintry mix” wild card do add a new dimension to the drive. Stay tuned for a post dedicated to potholes. Coming soon.

another thing i just don't get

2010-11-23T08:46:00.002-05:00

So there’s something I just don’t understand. Okay, well, there are a lot of things I just don’t understand, like: where all of my paycheck disappears to over the weekend, how Bristol beat out Brandy in DWTS, and the entire subject of trigonometry. But those things aside, there’s something else that has been bugging me for ages…

WHY do people feel the need the slow down to below the posted speed limit when passing a state trooper who has already pulled someone else over? Is it the magnetism of the swirling lights and like moths to a flame we are lulled into letting off the gas? Is it the spectacle of Joe Schmoe driver of said vehicle in violation trying to appear unscathed? Whatever it is, let it not be because they think they’re at risk of getting pulled over as well. The officer has already taken the bait, folks. We’ve sacrificed one for the sake of the pack. If a migrating goose is injured another goose stays behind with him, rather than traveling on.

DON’T BE A GOOSE. They poop on everything and quite frankly, they’re kind of mean.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is…maintain your speed. If you were going 75 mph before dude got plucked off, then there’s a good chance that they saw you…but wanted him more. Don’t give them an opportunity to question their decision. Keep going 75.

mad cow

2010-10-18T12:41:00.003-04:00

Road construction is the government's way of cattle-shooting us into submission.

Next thing you know, they're gonna be trying to milk us. Oh, wait...

an important message

2010-10-01T11:15:00.007-04:00

We now interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you this important message regarding Commuters Against Rain (CAR):

CAR is an activist organization that has been gaining popularity in rapid numbers along the Atlantic seaboard in response to a week’s worth of unrelenting inclement weather and the increasingly infuriating ineptitude of other drivers ill-equipped to navigate what some refer to as “a wet road.”

While “wet roads” may be new to some drivers, particularly those with learner’s permits or international permits issued by countries such as Saudi Arabia, Libya, and the Sudan, the average driver in the northeastern United States should expect to encounter “wet roads” with enough regularity to provide them with the experiential education necessary to maintain speed and avoid unnecessary congestion. However, according to research sponsored and conducted by CAR, lack of education seems to be precisely the issue as drivers venture out onto the “wet roads.”

Dr. Priti Ann Oyed, a scientist actively involved in CAR’s ongoing research, discusses her findings: “All studies both within and outside of the lab setting have pointed to the basic fact that people are really retarded. It’s not the conclusion that we set out to find, but it’s simply undeniable. Wet road-induced retardation is a rampant issue in this country and one that CAR plans to address immediately.”

And with the aid of crabby commuters everywhere, this issue is beginning to come to the forefront. In a recent press conference, a conservative Senator (and noted CAR constituent) also discussed his plans to tackle the issue: “Washington cannot and will not ignore this issue! Rain and retardation clearly go hand-and-hand with the growing Socialist movement in this country. We will not let big government and its various ‘agents of change’ rain on our parade. As commuters – the movers and shakers that form the very foundation of our capitalist ideals, we all have an individual right to not face retardation on our roads. The Republican Party, myself included, will join CAR in its fight to end the neo-socialist tyranny that has aggravated these driving conditions.”

While the leadership of CAR failed to return our calls to decipher the Senator’s remarks and further discuss these alleged political ties, one active member did have this to say: “Listen, I’m just an average gal with an average job, just trying to get to work on a rainy day. Sure, I would rather sit at home eating Tastykakes and watching reruns of Jersey Shore and Teen Mom. But the fact of the matter is, I have to be on the road. I have to go out there and work to support my family just like everyone else. I would just appreciate it if some steps were taken to keep either the rain or the retards off the roads. That’s CAR’s main goal and that’s why I’m a member.”

rope's end

2010-09-30T10:42:00.007-04:00

Well this morning really topped the charts: three hours and fifteen minutes to go 94 miles (and take one small detour off the parkway to a quaint little Dunkin Donuts with a public restroom…I MUST remember to not drink coffee on my way to work if it is raining).

Defeat has never really been my forte, so I’m not inclined to accept it now; however, this simply cannot continue. I mean, consider what I could have done with that time had I not been sitting in my car adjusting and readjusting the tension of my seat belt on my bladder. For example:

I could have finally witnessed the conclusion to my semi-lucid recurring dream about getting chased by dinosaurs and construction equipment through a furniture store. But now I may never know if T-Rex will crush me with his backhoe or if I will ever get that beautiful green sectional I’ve been eyeing up as I repeatedly deathsprint by…

I could have watched three hours and fifteen minutes of Sham-Wow, Bender Ball, Slap Chop, and Proactiv infomercials and finally been able to get those sap smudges off my windshield, tighten my obliques, make egg salad in a snap, and tackle that adult acne situation. But now I may just have to accept that a good section of my windshield is as useful for seeing the road as beer goggles are for scouting models and my eggs may never be evenly chopped in milliseconds. I am truly missing out on the little things in life…

I could have even received three hours worth of useful therapy to help me process that bottled up, commute-induced rage that is soooo ready to erupt on some unsuspecting soul. But for now I will have to douse the flames with my trusty coffee, a good chuckle at the unrelenting misery that is my commute, and the kind of patience that can only be built up through years of ignoring the clock on the dashboard, turning up my tunes and pretending that I’m headed towards better things.

Gotta keep on keepin’ on.

and can i get an amen? AMEN!

2010-09-28T13:44:00.006-04:00

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, and that’s unfortunate…but it also seems as though I’ve let a lot of things go lately.

Probably because I’ve been too busy driving and sleeping and working and paying someone’s wages at the Shell station and keeping a Columbian farming community in business with my coffee consumption lately.

That’s a lot of responsibility for one person you see. There’s a heck of a lot more than dandruff and dog hair riding on these shoulders, folks.

Now the reason I know I’ve been less than attentive lately is because about a half hour into my commute this morning my check engine light went on.

I’ve seen this once before. I was driving across the country, moving back to the northeast from Phoenix, and was somewhere between my last coffee pee and that mile marker where Officer Jingle, policeman in the great state of Texas pulled me and my gal pal (who was simply helping me move) over under the suspicion that two women in one car meant we were up to some god-hatin’ lesbian fornication. (Anyway, we were up to no such thing – NOT that it was ANY of his business legally, criminally, or otherwise.)

But that time, you see, I just pulled over and gave my gas cap that extra twist and we were good to go! I put that engine in check! Showed it who was boss!

Something about the light this morning made me a little bit less confident, however. I’ve been driving about 200 miles a day for four months now and that’s gotta take its toll. So I pulled off at the rest stop and proceeded to try and look expert about what I was doing. I tightened the cap (just for good measure) and popped my hood. And then I hummed and sighed over the damn thing for about 5 seconds trying to remember how to check my oil. I knew I needed to check my oil, because other than tightening the gas cap that would be the only other thing I could do at the rest area besides give up and phone home. I just couldn’t remember where that little pull tabby thing was. I guess I looked hopeless enough because I was quickly approached by several gas station attendants who promptly discovered that I had ZERO oil in my car.

None. Zip. The pull tabby thing was spotless. I could have flossed with it.

Yeah, so that’s bad.

They filled it up and relayed their prayers for health and riches to me - seeing as how only a very religious woman could have made it to the rest stop with no oil in her car. Apparently it was their professional opinion that I’ve been running on the power of prayer alone.

Oh, how very ironically metaphorical commuting can be.

UPDATE: I am beginning to feel like a real dipstick for not knowing what that tabby thing was called. Thanks, Jackie!

let's flip the track, bring the old school back

2010-09-16T09:41:00.005-04:00

So there were two things that made me quite happy this morning and sufficiently distracted me from at least the first 20 minutes of my morning misery:

It's pumpkin spice season! Much to my excitement, I discovered this morning that Wawa has replaced my usual delightfully bowel-churning chai tea with a much moreso delightfully bowel-churning pumpkin spice cappuccino! I contend that the best thing about fall is not the changing color of the leaves, nor the anticipation of the upcoming holiday season...it's pumpkin spice flavored beverages. And one accompanied me all the way up the parkway this morning. So happy pumpkin spice season, everyone!

Montell Jordan's This Is How We Do It was on the radio. And really, who isn't in a good mood after hearing that song? So I leave you with this...and my apologies for not being very active on here for the past two weeks...hopefully Montell will make up for it...

it depends

2010-09-14T09:19:00.003-04:00

So it took me three hours to get to work yesterday.

THREE HOURS. To go just under 100 miles.

I was hovering in this void between infuriation and defeat for the rest of the day, and was both overcaffienated and over-air-conditioned…which all-in-all, led to me spending my day huddled in the corner shivering, whimpering, and probably looking a bit like a rabid raccoon. I couldn’t even bring myself to blog about it – even my coping mechanism of cynicism failed me.

Accidents, Car-B-Qs, and the inability of our transportation-planning forefathers to anticipate urban sprawl, overpopulation, and rice-burner proliferation are all beyond my control. And overall, I consider myself a patient person when it comes to dealing with situations that are beyond my control. I turn up the radio, munch on my bagel, phone-a-friend, and resign myself to the fact that I’m probably going to get the worst parking space at work.

But three hours?!

If this keeps up, I’m going to have to consider following suit with that crazy stalker astronaut lady who wore adult diapers on her cross-country marathon drive. Holding 24 ounces worth of coffee pee for three hours is uncomfortable! No one should have to stop at a rest stop along their way to work “just in case.” No one should even be passing rest stops along their way to work. And certainly, no one should have to endure three hours in a car just to sit for another 8 or so hours in front of a computer just to sit for another two hours in a car just to lie down and go to sleep just to wake up and do it all over again the next day.

I’m on the edge, my friends, on the edge.

jersey driving etiquette 101

2010-09-10T12:39:00.007-04:00

Okay, I've driven enough miles in Jersey over the past few months to now feel fully qualified to educate all of the other out-of-staters on Jersey driving etiquette. So I thought I'd cap off this week with a few key pointers that I've learned that could help you too. Especially if you're headed down the shore for this post-Labor day weekend.

First, see the two pictures below:

Now in most states, these lines indicate whether it is legal to pass or illegal to pass; however, in New Jersey, the lines on the road are strictly used for sobriety tests, so feel free to pass at will regardless of the lines...cuz everyone else does.

Secondly, when you see this:

It actually means this:

Here's another one that I was already familiar with before I moved to Jersey. If you can see these:

(Tail lights of the car in front of you) then you are probably going too slow. Creep up a bit. Ride their tail. You're bound to get there faster.

And finally, get familiar with this very important technical component of your vehicle:

You'll find it in the center of your steering wheel. Push it often. Especially if you are pissed off or if you're passing Lisa. TOOT, TOOT! What a hottie!

Have a good weekend!

formalities

2010-09-09T09:12:00.004-04:00

For the car who obviously needed to be merging in front of me on the parkway this morning, but who for some reason seemed to be waiting for some personalized invitation to get with the program:

untitled

2010-09-03T09:57:00.002-04:00

I made it to work today with unprecedented speed. YAY!

Apparently this is because I missed the memo explaining that normal people take vacation on the Friday before Labor Day weekend and LeBron it out of town. DANG IT! “CC” me next time!

So the northbound lanes were cruising like NASCAR Sunday while the southbound lanes were beachbound and landlocked. Sorry, folks. Guess you guys missed that memo.

quandary of the day

2010-09-03T09:13:00.004-04:00

Why does the Raritan River occasionally smell like hot broccoli farts?

I don't like it.

you make me sick

2010-09-02T11:15:00.006-04:00

So there I was this morning sitting still on the parkway…as usual…caught in what the radio called a “traffic pocket,” which reminded me of hot pockets and how I’ve not yet tried the breakfast kind but I totally love the ham and cheese ones because the ham is cooked like I like it and how I wasn’t sure if I was really willing to risk microwaved eggs but how McDonald’s probably microwaves their eggs and I’ve eaten them without getting sick and so on and so forth (my stream of consciousness is devoid of punctuation)…

WHEN SUDDENLY…I saw the most beautifully manicured hand (complete with French manicure and strand of pearls) emerge from the window of a fancy schmancy car and…

FLICK A CIGARETTE in my direction!!! Gross! Cigarettes are disgusting. Smoking totally negates the mani and the pearls. This chic would have been better off just skipping the young Jackie O. façade and going with the wicked witch look instead, cuz that’s what she’s going to look like in a few short years anyway when she peers into the mirror, mirror on the wall and sees how those pouty lips have shriveled up into a permanent little suck pucker.

Now should I care this much about a complete stranger’s well-being and appearance? Probably not. But she flicked the damn thing basically at me. All lady-like too like she was effin Miss America tossing tootsie rolls from a parade float. I just happen to think that if you’re gonna be nasty, why not go all the way? Jam the stub into your ash tray, trash up your own car like you’re trashing up your lungs, and don’t bother trying to keep up appearances…cuz you are DISGUSTING.

And that’s how I really feel.

lmao

2010-09-01T09:47:00.004-04:00

What is Google AdSense trying to tell me here? Maybe I shouldn't be on the road at all...

And I'm not even going to address the body odor, acne, or DWI ads...

another commuter affliction

2010-09-01T09:32:00.003-04:00

Following the popularity of Tuesday’s revealing adult acne post, I’m going to continue today with another affliction that I deem inextricably tied to extreme commuting. And that is…the eye twitch.

If you are unfamiliar with the eye twitch, see this creepy video:

Causes of the eye twitch as they relate to commuting:

Staring hopelessly at the dented rear bumper of the car in front of you, knowing that if you take your eyes off the back of this perpetual speed braker for even a moment you’re certain to make that dent a lot deeper. Even if he does kinda deserve it.
Trying not to sneeze. Because everyone knows that the scariest involuntary thing you can do while driving is to sneeze. Your heart stops. Your eyes close. It’s a snot-spattered wreck waiting to happen.
Nervously lying to a state trooper: Officer, I had NO ideeeeeea TWITCH that I was going TWITCH 80 in a 55. TWITCH
and finally, holding back the inevitable anger that wells up when, yet again, someone with New York plates gets all up in your rear thinking that they own the road and will somehow magically make the line of all of the other cars in front of you disappear like Moses on the parkway.

TWITCH, TWITCH, TWITCH

groundbreaking study

2010-08-31T08:17:00.007-04:00

New research conducted by Polish dermatologists, Drs. Hugh Gzitski and Poppa Pimpsky, has revealed that commuting is a definite cause of adult acne in patients who drive more than an hour a day.

See pictorial evidence from a selection of their study subjects:

Here is the data from their study:

Suggested causes for this positive correlation:

Dehydration from excessive caffeine intake and regular coffee peeing
Excessive cell phone usage and related build-up of acne-causing bacteria
Elevated levels of stress hormones caused by buttheads who should have their licenses revoked
Increased mindless picking during traffic jams
and finally, lack of sufficient time at home between commutes to maintain regular hygiene habits.

I don't know about you, but I find this to be truly eye-opening.

And I published it on the internet, so it must be true.

i kinda hate driving, actually

2010-08-30T09:29:00.008-04:00

You know what’s ironic about my extreme commuting? I kinda really hate driving.

Any chance I get, I toss the keys to the Honda to SYB and make him cart my lazy butt around. I didn’t even get my license until I was 17 (almost 18), when everyone else was getting theirs at 16. I wasn’t anxious to drive. I had two friends with cars - one with a hand-me-down Corolla and the other with a swwwwweet Volvo DL manufactured well before my conception – and they didn’t seem to mind my ride-mooching. Plus, there really wasn’t a chance in hell that I was gonna pass the driver’s exam if my choices were limited to parallel parking either my dad’s Explorer or the beached-whale of a road-yacht that my mom drove around back then.

I probably would have never even bought my own car had it not been for the fact that I was living in Pittsburgh and SYB lived in Jersey, and Greyhound smelled like dirty, calloused, hippie feet mixed with mildew and liverwurst. (Clearly, I had no choice but to purchase my independence.)

Oh, the power of young love and large doses of Sportscenter and snuggling down the shore…

Anyway, I would give just about anything to not have to drive so much now. Walking to work would be swell, but that would limit me to a less than lucrative bakery or liquor store career. While an employee discount would be AWESOME…I just dunno if that’s for me…

So I guess driving it is…for now…unless the pastry bizz really takes off. And if that ever happens, then EZPass should prepare itself for a strong downturn in revenue. Cuz when it’s time to make the donuts, I’ll be there. Not on the parkway. And you can count on that.

showdown

2010-08-27T09:17:00.009-04:00

So...there I was going 80 up the parkway. (That's about 25 over...I hang my head in feigned shame.) I was in the left lane passing people (cuz that's what you're supposed to do when you're in the left lane) who were going about 75.

Anyway, this d-bag is some fancy new glorified station wagon decides to crawl up my butt and be pissed that I'm only going 80. There's not really any space for me to pull into the center lane and I'm not going to risk 85 just to appease him, so I hang with the traffic and feel like I'm doing the world a justice by giving him his well-deserved time-out.

Apparently, he disagreed. As soon as he found a break in the center lane, he pulled in and raced around me. Laying on his horn the whole time.

Now I can respect that this dude was in a hurry. I don't even mind that he cut me off. But there is nothing more infuriating than a guy who uses his horn to telegraph the Morse code for eff you. Seriously, what does that achieve?

Isn't the horn supposed to be used to alert and warn? Like, "hey, I'm here, probably shouldn't merge into my front bumper" TOOT, TOOT! Or maybe dude was warning me. Maybe he wanted to take it out to the rest area parking lot and have a good ol' fashioned showdown.

I'm not scared: I'll O.K.-Corral his ass back to drivers ed where he can learn about proper horn usage.

That is, if his speeding off at 90 in front of me didn't land him there anyway!

couldn't have said it better myself

2010-08-26T08:10:00.005-04:00

Thought I should help her get the message out. Here is a note from Lisa, over at A Pear Tree on Mossop Street:

Dear Mr. Pimped-Out Honda Civic,

Thanks, oh so much, for the objectifying honk while I was running. However, I'm going to pass; it takes more than that to pique my interest. Unless you were honking at the old lady behind me, in which case I apologize for my sassy comment.

Sincerely,

Lisa

You tell 'em, sista! You're just out there makin' sure that THIS stays a 10...I get you.

undecided

2010-08-25T12:23:00.003-04:00

an order of beef and backup

2010-08-24T08:41:00.008-04:00

And I thought three accident-riddled hours on the parkway yesterday evening was brutal...

"CHINA'S NINE-DAY TRAFFIC JAM STRETCHES 100KM"

You'd think some fortune cookie out there would have warned them:

Confucius say no drive today.

UPDATE: According to this Wall Street Journal article, the traffic jam could last until September 17th. Yikes. What's the Chinese word for "telecommute"?

gtl

2010-08-23T16:19:00.003-04:00

So this weekend I had the pleasure of visiting Seaside Heights for the first time. I had high hopes for achieving famousity a la Snooki or J-WOWW, but as I got ready for the evening, the real situation became quite clear:

I’m not Italian.

Tan, for me, means that my freckles have connected, and I probably need to go to the derm and have at least an eighth of them removed and tested.

My hair is blonde and sports the volume of overcooked capelli d’angelo. Yeah, that’s right…the Irish/German girl speaks pasta (a.k.a. the international language of carbs), so you can go shove your self-righteous gnocchi you know where.

I stopped going to the gym in 2005.

I don’t do my own laundry. (BIG BIG LOVE and shout-outs to SYB for keeping my whites Clorox-white! I heart you.)

And I really don’t “get” what’s so great about Seaside??? Seemed like a bunch of New Yorkers and scantily clad teenagers eating over-priced frozen custard and trying to puke it up on pier rides. I don’t trust any ride that could land me headfirst on wooden planks. Nor do I trust any shirt that doesn’t have a back. Apparently I just don't fit in. On the upside though, I almost paid to have my cards read which would have been super entertaining and my company provided truly enlightening commentary throughout the evening.

But anyway, so I know you come to this page tingling with anticipation, ready to read about my next driving escapade, and I’m sorry to disappoint you with a post that has nothing to do with my commute…or even driving. But I just had to point out that on a parkway full of exits (a.k.a. limitless possibilities)…the exit for Seaside is one that I might just not need to take again.

And as for my well-deserved famousity? Well…if I’m not going to be discovered in my favorite green tank top and my dungarees (I kinda love that word), then this blog is just gonna have to do it.

Plan of attack:

Commute more often. With summer ending, so too have the days of Fridays off come to a close.

Be more crabby. I don’t own a coffee machine. Enough said. Donations will be accepted.

Write even awesomer fantasticalness that just cannot be ignored. See examples: The Sassy Curmudgeon and Red Means Go!

Get more followers! See Tailgate Me! on righthand side.

And always make sure that the party’s HERE, b*tches!

shake and bake

2010-08-19T12:24:00.003-04:00

Dear speed racer in the black BMW,

This isn’t Talladega, it’s the Garden State Parkway.

I get that it has a lot of lanes, fun curves, and that my car is probably awesome enough to professionally race (sorry if that’s what threw you off), but you just can’t be bee-bopping in and out of lanes at 90 mph and not expect to get pulled over. Duh.

I really tried to be sympathetic when the cop took you out right in front me. Maybe you just finished off a Big Gulp and were headed towards some relief. I can empathize!

Or maybe you were so sick of your seemingly endless daily commute that you just snapped. I’ve been there!

But then I noticed your New York plates. Clearly you were just drivin’ like an a-hole. My sympathy ends here.

Sincerely,

me

ugh

2010-08-18T12:24:00.003-04:00

So just when I thought I was in a hopelessly good mood long-lasting enough to thoroughly and perhaps permanently constipate my sarcasm and disdain, the clouds quite literally descended upon me.

Now, we have already discussed my amazement and frustration with regards to how folks who live in a state with regular precipitation experience selective driving amnesia when the first big drops splatter across the windshield; however, not one of these folks can begin to top the driver I had the pleasure of steering clear from yesterday evening.

I shall refer to him as “The Tread-less Wonder.”

The Tread-less Wonder had Florida plates. Doesn’t it rain almost daily in Florida? Aren’t there hurricanes in Florida? Doesn’t driver education in Florida (like everywhere else) address driving in poor conditions?

Perhaps not. Perhaps I’ve been misinformed. Surely I missed my opportunity to ask The Tread-less Wonder these very important questions on one of the THREE occasions he pulled off into the shoulder, and then proceeded to veer back into the lane cutting me off each time. There I was trying to brace myself for the repeated onslaught of tsunamis splashed up by my neighboring SUVs and Gutless here couldn’t decide whether or not to even stay on the road.

Nothing makes me crabbier than people who can’t maintain their speed and who hesitate.

I shake my head in disgust.