ok, so it wouldn't really have been death (except for the baseball-cap-wearing retard who was driving the truck), it would have been more of a squished front of helmut (the car), but still...today's incident where the abovementioned person of limited mental capacity decided to back up full speed without checking any of his handily provided mirrors, right into yours truly, was just one more roadsign on the highway to what-the-living-fuck-is-wrong-with-you-people-anyway-ville.
never one to pass up an opportunity to use The Horn Of Disapproval And Just Anger, i layed it on, and the douchebag stopped his truck one or two inches from my car. had i been sucked into the vortex of north american consumerism and idiocy and thus driving an suv, the truck would have squashed a chunk of my front end. i think what saved me is that little helmut (the car) is so small, so low to the ground.
i braced myself for the crunch and the resulting adrenalin rush that would carry me through the righteous beating i was going to administer, and when nothing came i proceeded to shake like a son of a biscuit for the next half hour. the mental midget gave me a dirty look (how dare i mysteriously appear out of nowhere and get in the way of his TRUCK?!) and drove off, which i am sure would have happened even if he had plowed right into little yellow moi.
as i said, this is my third or fourth brush with if not death then at least grievous bodily harm, and i am starting to be afraid of driving and this pisses me off. because it is all the (usually dodge ram) truck driving assholes that are making me want to stay home and drink and send out for crappy pizza and take in patients in my living room ("please expectorate into the lovely ceramic teacup provided for your salivary evacuation needs").
BUT: we're off to a weekend of peace and quiet in what is realistically fort mac minor, but there is our lovely monsieur antoine and his collection of world class libations, and a kitchen liberally equipped with pots, pans and large quantites of fresh garlic, awaiting our arrival, there is a canoe which, rumour has it, can easily handle three adults, even including two with larger-than-realistically-acceptable heads, and did i mention the booze?
i hope to sleep in (till 8:30! my recent record!), drink wine as soon as the clock hits 12:01 (prior to which time i would have been slurping coffee liberally laced with irish cream, as per crazy joan's rules of drinking), cook, eat, talk philosophy and meaning of life, be carried to bed by mister monkey and generally get my batteries recharged before i have to return here and put my life into the hands of lobotomized ijits.