Admit Something

[lennytheweedwhacker]

or you could just let them pass you

But what are the circumstances? I stay in the left lane. So if some dipshit wants to ride my ass and pass me, they have all the opportunity to do so by passing on the left like they’re supposed to. So what are we taking about here?

Move to the right lane

Goddamnit, Len!

I meant the right lane!

Hehe

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Chris_H_2]

letting someone pass you doesn't really cost you any time, and maybe the other guy has a real good reason for going fast

Honestly a pretty evolved viewpoint for a Masshole

i just wish more people would let me pass

maybe they would if you would come out of nowhere behind them wildly honking your horn and flashing your lights like a crazy person

[JuanHamm]

How else would you convey that you urgently need to shit?

[lennytheweedwhacker]

letting someone pass you doesn't really cost you any time, and maybe the other guy has a real good reason for going fast

Honestly a pretty evolved viewpoint for a Masshole

i just wish more people would let me pass

maybe they would if you would come out of nowhere behind them wildly honking your horn and flashing your lights like a crazy person

Oh snap

[BurtReynolds]

Austin drivers are nuts. Half are people going too fast, and half going way too slow. Makes chaos on the roads, which are poorly designed anyway.

[Chris_H_2]

was driving home from michigan last night, and in indiana where the interstate is four lanes each way, i was doing 78 mph in a 55 mph, and was barely keeping up with the car in front of me. i was in the far left lane. there are signs everywhere that say semis cannot be in the left two lanes. all four lanes were full. i got passed by a semi . . . on the left shoulder.

[wease]

was driving home from michigan last night, and in indiana where the interstate is four lanes each way, i was doing 78 mph in a 55 mph, and was barely keeping up with the car in front of me. i was in the far left lane. there are signs everywhere that say semis cannot be in the left two lanes. all four lanes were full. i got passed by a semi . . . on the left shoulder.

Straight up baller move

[knee tunes]

was driving home from michigan last night, and in indiana where the interstate is four lanes each way, i was doing 78 mph in a 55 mph, and was barely keeping up with the car in front of me. i was in the far left lane. there are signs everywhere that say semis cannot be in the left two lanes. all four lanes were full. i got passed by a semi . . . on the left shoulder.

and please?

[spike]

was driving home from michigan last night, and in indiana where the interstate is four lanes each way, i was doing 78 mph in a 55 mph, and was barely keeping up with the car in front of me. i was in the far left lane. there are signs everywhere that say semis cannot be in the left two lanes. all four lanes were full. i got passed by a semi . . . on the left shoulder.

This tracks. I-80 is semi Thunderdome.

[Bammer]

I'm pretty sure I flip off about 1 driver per day for riding my ass

I am far more inclined to honk at another driver for a shit driving move as opposed to flipping them off. Under the right circumstances I will hold that horn down for a solid 10 seconds.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

I'm pretty sure I flip off about 1 driver per day for riding my ass

I am far more inclined to honk at another driver for a shit driving move as opposed to flipping them off. Under the right circumstances I will hold that horn down for a solid 10 seconds.

If someone pulls out in front or is almost merging right into me then I’m honking no doubt. Partially as a warning sign and partially as a hey you idiot

[Chris_H_2]

we have our office holiday party tonight. it's the first real one in person since before the pandemic. during that time, we've hired a ton of new people. i don't recognize any of them. none.

[dad]

talk to each one of them, and act like you've known them for years.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Chris_H_2]

we have our office holiday party tonight. it's the first real one in person since before the pandemic. during that time, we've hired a ton of new people. i don't recognize any of them. none.

This was my wife’s party last year, when the holiday party grew from about 50 to 150. Then this year it was like 300, and most of the new faces were about 23 years old (lots of analysts) and giving off annoying punk kid vibes

yeah, i'm not looking forward to hearing them bitch about every little thing under the sun. the f'n entitlement is off the charts.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Chris_H_2]

we have our office holiday party tonight. it's the first real one in person since before the pandemic. during that time, we've hired a ton of new people. i don't recognize any of them. none.

This was my wife’s party last year, when the holiday party grew from about 50 to 150. Then this year it was like 300, and most of the new faces were about 23 years old (lots of analysts) and giving off annoying punk kid vibes

yeah, i'm not looking forward to hearing them bitch about every little thing under the sun. the f'n entitlement is off the charts.

Do you work with my wife

sounds like neither one of us would even know

[lennytheweedwhacker]

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.