It's nothing personal--I'm just a honky.

Dear Shithead,

Before you completely overreact, you should know something.

When I honk my car horn, there's a good chance that I'm not talking to you.

Well, I mean, if you're doing something dangerous or incredibly stupid, I might mean you. But you shouldn't automatically assume that I do.

And so, lady who was picking up her high-school-aged son this afternoon, when I honked my horn, it was to communicate with the other lumpish dolt of teenaged boy (the one you did not spawn and were not picking up) who had stationed himself at the end of my driveway, and who was wearing headphones.

Which meant that he might have been listening to music. And might not hear me start my engine and start backing out of my driveway.

So just to forestall any possible decision on his part to step into the path of my car--since he had his back to me--I thought I would advise him of my presence.

So I tapped the horn.

So you see, it was not road rage on my part. I wasn't angry, and it wasn't about you. Until you started leaning on your horn. At that point, my decision to gun my engine and take off after you may or may have not been affected by your behavior. Since you took the first right hand turn and I kept going straight, we'll never know, will we?

Fuck you,
Poppy who is UP TO HERE with the high school traffic

Crocs

For your reading pleasure (or maybe not) a rant about Crocs.

But it's not what you think.



OK, I don't like them. But they have their advantages.

They're cheerful and cheap and comfortable. And cute. I guess. If you like your feet to look like crayons.

But here's my point; they're also made of plastic, which means when they get grubby, it's very easy to clean them. Like Naugahyde, Formica, and the plastic gardening clogs they so much resemble, they wipe clean with a damp cloth. So please do.


These days I'm seeing some Crocs that are looking really pretty woebegone, and it's just not necessary.

And hey, relax. I'm not asking you to do anything really complicated, like, say, shining a pair of leather shoes.

A quick swipe with a wet sponge will do wonders, and it will prevent you from looking like a cute and colorful survivor of the retreat from Kabul.

And honestly, people, Crocs cost $25 a pair, which is cheap enough for you to break down and buy a new pair when your old ones have gotten completely disreputable.

So hose down your Crocs. Or I'll tell you what I think of the current fad for fussy little pockets with snaps on the backsides of ladies who really should know better.