The Librarian Look

Today after work I came home and got in the car to go over to the exciting Madison Centre Mall (Save on Foods, Winners, Car Insurance Salesman, Shark Club Bar and Grill [and cold beer & wine store]) to source a gift for an old friend who has everything – no, really, everything – and is turning 30 tomorrow.

It was good – me and the car. The car was happy because the other day I gave it clutch fluid. Now its clutch provides resistence when I press it instead of just sighing heavily as it did last week. I was happy too. I was all get me some SFU Radio! I’m’a driving! unlike the other day, before I got the clutch fluid and it was raining heavily and my route to the Canadian Tire was detoured and the detour led me through an industrial warehouse wasteland and at the end of the road I ran over a giant rubber penis (I am TOTALLY SERIOUS) and then ended up going south on Willingdon which, it should suffice to say here, is the wrong direction.

Today I remembered the detour (and I couldn’t forget the rubber penis even if I wanted to because how does that end up on a road near a McDonald’s i’mlovinit that used to be the floating McDonald’s from Expo 86?) and I went all the way up to Willingdon and turned left which is North which is the Correct Way, you see how everywhere I go is North except Metrotown which is SouthEast? and suddenly realized, as I looked at the lines of cars waiting to turn onto the highway and the glistening brakelights stretching out in front of me as the rain did fall, so heavy, like an olympic hurdle and my chest began to tighten but not with unbearable emotion but with that kind of intensity where you have to say “breathe! Don’t forget to breathe!” that I was in rush hour traffic, in the heavy rain. Heavy!

I thought wow, I haven’t driven in the rain in rush hour in quite some time. Lesson one: It’s absolutely necessary to remember to not use your peripheral vision if driving in rush hour. Or you will never get home. Someone will make eye contact and guilt you into letting them into your lane or someone will see that you’re looking off to the right and will sneak into your lane from the left. You must remain focused.

When I used to drive over the Knight St Bridge, I would stare straight ahead and sing along with the radio, that’s how much attention I was deliberately not paying to the people around me. Because rush hour drivers are not your usual average driver who deserves a break, yeah, sure, cut in front of me and I’ll get let in somewhere down the road. There is no karma in rush hour. There is only blood which is shed and blood which is yet unshed.

I remember a day coming over the bridge when this guy was way behind me and I could see him darting in and out of the 2 lanes, trying to get up front, front, front! He was behind me and then he was beside me and then he was sort of nosing into my lane, just trying to force his headlights – which had their own wipers – in there. He didn’t know that after my first & only rear-ender on Knight street, which was my hatchback’s hatched back VS a cube van, not only am I totally invincible but my car is worth far less to me than my desire to Win at All Costs. I nearly hit the BABY ON BOARD in front of me but there was no actual baby, just a sign, so it was okay. Buddy sped up. I sped up. We did this all the way across the bridge and I ensured that he was Trapped in the Right Lane which is the wrong lane on the Knight Street bridge until you get over the bridge. Once you’re over the bridge, the Right Lane is the right place to be. Oh the hijinx.

Today, however, I was not a rush hour driver. I was one of those people who is going to the store and who has to drive to get there because…oh never mind, you all remember that part.

I let a car into my lane but only because it had turned a little too sharply. It was aiming for my lane but it actually came out somewhere in the opposite lane, towards oncoming traffic. So I let him in. I was all, woohhooh! I saved America!

But then a speedy red red speedy car went ZOOM in front of me and killed my buzz. Red speedy car had a driver with tall, blonde hair. Blonde hair was concentrating on ashing her cigarette out her window, which was open just an inch or so, so that she wouldn’t get wet. Yeah, that’s hard. I mean, it was an automatic but it’s still hard to ash your cigarette out a window in the rain while you’re driving. Unless you do it every day and then you either get really good at it or you don’t care that you’re not very good at it because you’ve never crashed yet.

Consequently, she veered around a bit. And god if she wasn’t one of those people who believes in Light Magic. You know, you’re at a light. And the light is red. And you’re all stopped. The Light Magic person thinks if she nudges forward just an inch, the light will see her and change. Or maybe that everyone will move up an inch and then everyone will get through the light a couple of seconds faster. Or maybe she just thinks it really is magic and you just have to believe.

These people are the Negative Siblings of the Panicked Brakers. I hate the panicked brakers. You can’t tell if their brake lights are just sensitive or if they are maybe having a seizure or if they have a squirrel and a duck hanging out playing squirrel and duck tag by the pedals or what. But by the time the Panicked Braker really does have to stop, you’re all whatever. I’ll stop when I’m good and ready. And then you crash into them. And then they become even more panicked about braking.

1. Only depress the brake pedal if you suspect you have to stop. You’ll know. It’ll be a red light or a stop sign or an ambulance or something.
2. And once you have assessed that yes, you do need to stop, COMMIT. Stop there. Don’t keep rolling.

Where was I?

Ah yes, the Librarian Look. According to some horrible television show, like Inside Edition or Cowboy Hollywood Justice or Please Eat My Dad’s Cooking and We’ll Sleep With You, the sleazy look is O.U.T for back to school and the Librarian Look is I.N. “If you’re going to bare skin, bare your shoulders.”

Well all righhhhhht.

Shoulder Hotties.

Also, at Save on Foods, you can buy half a watermelon But I think that’s for pussies. You watch, I’ll eat all my watermelon yet.