Honestly? I don't know.

Yep, it's my usual. Away from the computer for days, all by my lonesome (if you don't count the voices)... you'd think I would have had time to come up with some sort of blog post.

Time, I had. Inclination, not so much.

I didn't bother, in other words.

Thanks to the Toronto office for taking over, though. We all know that, just like the blog will turn into a pumpkin if it ever has a point, the world will turn into a pumpkin if there is no blog.

Or something like that.

Excuse me for a moment. I just need to put some clothes in the dryer.





Ok. Topic, which I don't have.

Well, how about a bit of personal info? A small bit, since you know how I feel about splashing myself all over the internet.

If I was going to put a bumper sticker on Dirty Moe (my car, for those new to the program. And yes, there is a reason for the name), which I wouldn't but let's just say I would for a moment, the bumper stick would read I hate your truck.

Pick-up truck, I mean. I have my moments of hating semis as well (like yesterday's drive here, for example. Would someone mind telling the truckers that when it's raining hard enough that people are pulling on to the shoulders to wait out the worst of the downpour it might not be the BEST IDEA to pass people at full speed, ignoring the fact that you're creating a helluva tsunami as you go?), but mostly I reserve my loathing for the unnecessary, chromed-up, fuel-wasting beasties that every second moron in this province thinks are essential to life.

I have a bit of an opinion about pick-ups, yes.

Don't get me wrong. I do realise that some people -- not as many as seem to believe that they do -- need pick-ups for work or things like that. I can almost live with that excuse. What I have a problem with is the many, many people who have big shiny trucks to have big shiny trucks. Call it the need to be the biggest thing on the road, call it a penis substitute, hell... call it a brain substitute if you like since so many pick-up drivers don't seem to use theirs while they're driving... but whatever you call it the whole thing is incredibly annoying to me.

And don't tell me that they need their big toys to haul things around. Ninety percent of the time the boxes of the trucks I see on city streets are empty.

Except for maybe an unrestrained dog.

Or a quad.

Oh god, don't get me started on the quads. The only thing worse than a big, shiny, completely unnecessary truck is a big, shiny, completely unnecessary truck carrying a vehicle that is only going to be used to thrash through some defenceless underbrush for no apparent reason. I swear, driving a truck that's hauling a quad is the quickest way to double your rating on the moronometer.

So why do trucks set me off? Oh, so many reasons. Seeing those vanity toys parked sideways in two parking spaces so that no one can touch the paint job is right up there. So's the environmental irresponsibility. How a person can justify a big bloody truck these days when much of the world is trying to figure out how we can get ourselves out of the ginormous hole we've been so mindlessly digging... gah.

It's selfish. I guess that's what it comes down to.





Ah well.

If today's gas prices haven't done much to change good ol' redneck selfishness, whining about it on a blog sure won't.

And hey. This almost turned into a post after all.

Yay me.