Driving Me Up A Wall

I had the displeasure to be in the passenger side of a newly licensed 17-year-old driver. To put it in perspective, I could have taken two busses, a horse and a refugee boat from North Korea faster than this kid would get out of the driveway.

Ok, maybe US experienced drivers take this for granted. We get in, we turn car on and we GO. Including the seatbelt, I’m counting maybe five steps before I’m cruizin’ down the boulevard looking for some road rage to make my day.

But this young Mario Andretti apprentice with “especially bought for the occasion new sunglasses” took the Art Carney art of driving and adjusted everything except his attitude. I sat with little control watching his seat move -up.back.down.forward. and back again-.lumbar support stiff-lumbar support normal-lumbar support recessed. The moon roof open…shut..open…shut…halfway open, tilted and then up again for venting.

By the time the car even was started, the battery in the car was drained from finding the right song on the radio station to match his driving experience (think: repetitive and without talent). I truly felt like a dog walker who is watching the canine sniff for hours determining the right spot to relieve himself…as I screamed with controlled determination. “JUST GO!!!!….We are only driving to QUIKCHEK, not preparing for the INDY 500.”

Seriously, does anyone really need to sniff the TREE air freshener before you back up? NO! If it isn’t working, you would know if you got the car moving. I’m not asking for much, I just want to be going faster than A/C that he is now adjusting … for each…and…every…..vent angle … “Dude, it’s AIR, not chocolate or beer coming through those vents…what are we waiting for…the new model to come out?”

I understand the over caution, the newness and the fear of young drivers. I even appreciate the fact they focus their hands on the 10 and the 2, align proper mirror adjustment, etc.. , but I will bet NASA has less check points than this kid and three shuttles were launched and returned to Earth before I ever moved away from the curb.

After cup holders were checked for proper alignment and the trip odometer was set at -0.0000….AGAIN, I lost all patience and decided to do what any adult would do in my situation. I bribed him. “Get me to the store within FIVE minutes and I will pay any speeding ticket, plus buy you a BIG GULP of Mountain Dew and a Snickers bar. However, if you don’t move this ½ ton piece of aluminum and glass in 10 seconds, your next adjustment will be prying your body off the pavement as I will push the one part of this car you haven’t touched yet….. the EJECTOR BUTTON.”

Can you STOP hearing me now?

Enough. Turn it off. Right now young lady. Yes you who has pimped out her black phone with a pink case and sparkles...Yes you too, dude with the 'tude. You are all sitting together quietly, socializing and I'm assuming that means you know each other.

So turn off the cell and the text messaging at least for the small moments you are here and pretend your mouths actually work without a silicone and aluminum candy bar up against your cheek.

One hour. Try it...Last one who gives in and touches their phone, I'll give an iTunes gift card with Leona Lewis loaded on it while she sings up to 3 octaves of no words just for the sake of noise.

Two seconds later.

BZZZZ.. wow, that wasn't even close. You all lost and it wasn't even a text message or ring tone that wore you down. It was the oven's buzzer telling you that your ThreeForALL appetizers are ready.

Excuse me? Did you really just tell me to TEXT OFF?

Now that is a fine way to speak to your elders who actually appreciate that texting is valuable when you CAN'T speak directly to someone or when you know they will get the message later-Not when they are sitting inches across from you toasting the new episode of Gossip Girl.

Dr. Martin Cooper, inventor of the cellphone, wasn't dreaming he would create such a social abyss back in 1973. He just thought it was cool to order pizza from the road before he got home from work.

The first text message ever sent was "Merry Christmas" back in 1985...but of course J. Audestad who sent it used "xmas" to shorten his effort before his manager came in to catch him texting on the job.

I may not understand the value of texting to someone sitting right across from me. But understand this, I can blog, tweet, post, txt, play music, video, send & read emails like the Tasmanian Devil on Red Bull, but I also don't use it to overcompensate the fact I still like people. Maybe not YOU five kids sitting there dissing your parents. But to the most part, I still want to have a conversation with humans that doesn't include:

"wot up?" Translation: "Good evening, how was your day? Anything interesting you wish to share?"

"nada WRUUT" Translation: "thank you for asking. My day was absent of any particular details worth sharing but what are you considering for an evening of activities tonight?"

I lv txtng, but i so mis wrds n thghts with eyes and voices tht flow wit it. GTG.. My apitzr z getn cld

Just Review this blog on the days you don't Read

You HAVE to be kidding me! Driving out of the Lincoln Tunnel into the city and to see a Verizon billboard that has as much logic as building a tunnel under 4 billion gallons of water to get to an island.

A PAY-AS-YOU-GO plan is great for the 8 people on the planet who only use their cell phone in emergencies. But seeing in all its magnificent glory in a slogan that says, "JUST PAY ON THE DAYS YOU USE IT" high above my metropolis mix of 8,274,527 people who never, ever remove their cell phones from their ears just seems like a waste of billboard space.

When is the last time you ever DIDN'T use your cell phone? Maybe 2001 when you left it in the wash with your Starbucks gift card?

I'll save you time for the the next billboards in the area. Don't worry about compensating me for my ideas. I promise you its completely MY pleasure.

For Weight Watchers plan, "Only get fat on the days you eat".

For Health Insurance, "Just pay on the days you aren't feeling well".

For a college fund, "Only pay for the tuition if you kid gets a job after that doesn't include asking if they want fries with the order".

For iTunes, "Only pay for the song if it wasn't sampled, copied, repetitive, sung by John Mayer or has la la la in it".

For Poland Spring, "Pay only for the water if you can't get the same wet liquid out of your tap at home"

For the airline industry, "Pay for only the flights you actually reach your destination."

For Verizon's next million dollar idea, "How about I pay triple for the days I don't use my phone?"

Musical Chairs

I understand freedom of expression. Music wouldn't be entertaining if it were all the same genre, sound or compilation of rhythms. But I decided to create my own rules anyway.

Rule #1. Please don't rhyme words or make up words just for the sake of rhyming.

"Me and LorenzO
sitting in my Benz-O"

I could say anything O
just to pretend I have talent O

or

"Had a brother at Khe Sahn fighting off the Viet Cong.
They're still there he's all gone.
He had a woman he loved in Saigon."

Bruce, really...you have written thousands of songs...gotta have a dictionary somewhere in your house. Where does those three words express rhyme to you?

or

"What the deal playboy, just rest your soul.
Got these ladies on the rock now you know how we go.
Got the whole world on lock down you know how we flow."

Jay-Z.... different words, not one actually rhymes. I mean, you had three chances to find one word that matches. Even with the Internet you can find a word that rhymes with anything else except "orange".

Rule # 2. Please don't repeat the same verse more times than a human breathes in an hour. Catchy or not, if you hear that verse for two straight weeks..it's not a song, it's a death march.

"Blinded by the light.
Revved up like a Deuce.
Another runner in the night
[repeat until you die a slow long painful demise]

If I wanted to hear that verse again, I'd hit repeat on my iPod.

or my new LEAST favorite of John Mayer.

His verse, "Say what you need to say...say what you need to say" [He repeats it no less than 36 times in 2 minutes.]

JOHN... Say what you mean to say..and STOP saying it.

Rule #3. Don't sample a great song from 10 years ago and then tell me you are an artist. There is a reason that people like your updated version....because the best part is what you stole in the first place.

Ok I'm done venting
I'm through chanting
I'm just saying less
to get it off my chest

and I just said what I needed to say in less time than it took John to clear his throat.

Commuter Voyeurism

There it is. I can see you and it's fine. Don't stop now. We aren't moving and I promise no one is watching........watching THE ROAD.

Love the fact you have no qualms about practicing karaoke in your Honda. Nothing is more entertaining then as thousands of us idle with fumes, we can watch you enjoy a guilty pleasure of a song most of us would NEVER admit to even knowing the words.

Playing it loud in your car; cruising. Just you, your morning coffee and your tunes to get you through the commute.

Don't worry, this is your private time, no phone, blackberry or Todo list. What could make this morning commute go any better?

I don't know, perhaps the fact that you don't realize 100 cars are watching and you look like you are trying out for High School Musical 4 without the benefit of watching try to ACT as well.

Yes I'm voyeur (WELL, let me clarify. I'm a commuter voyeur and proud of it. I love the fact you have no shame screaming an "80's Ballad" with a high pitch of a Hairband that could forever ruin THEIR chance for a reunion concert.

I'm trying hard to keep within four car lengths of your hybrid to not lose sight or sound of this garage band on wheels and because throughout the commute, I know I can name that tune in two mileage markers, maybe one. Don't stop singing now that you know everyone is watching you in your mobile shower of rhythm. We just started playing Trivial Pursuit musical addition and you are the sappy host.

Finish strong please. Hit the crescendo, pretend your cell phone is a mic and Simon, Paula and Randy are actually impressed and you get to move on to the next week's freeway of sound. I haven't had this much fun in my own car since drive ins were still in existence..(author's note: yeah, I was probably alone then too)

Encore. Hurry..Find another station, another song. One more please as I want to see how you emulate Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks as a duet before I hit MY exit.

The radio is always greener

I'm spoiled. Love the music. Love that I can store an infinite amount of music on a piece of plastic the size of cassette tape (sorry, but I find humor in that).

All my favorites from the latest artists I downloaded last night to my high school classics I bought years ago to the hard-to-find, unique songs I would never have bought if I had to actually buy the entire album for one tune or search for that song in a store.

So why am I miserable? WHY do I shuffle through my iPod 50 or 60 times out of 2000 available from songs "I" chose myself, before I find any ONE song I want to hear?

The one tune that is going to get me to the next destination; the next "ADD" moment.

Worse yet. Wouldn't you know it, when I hear a song on the radio that I know IS already on my iPod, I ask myself, "I LOVE that freakin' song...I wonder if its on my iPod so I can listen to it." Never fails.

I've come to the conclusion we could have our own personal band playing for us nightly, but we always want the song when someone else plays it or has it playing on their iPod. Think of it this way: We like when others shampoo our hair. We like it much more when someone else makes the same meal we made for ourselves last week.

Spoiled? YES. I guess that is why scratching my own back doesn't have any pleasure either.