And the Award Goes To ...

Because I have an overinflated sense of my own importance, I have invented an award based on one of my most oft-used talents. I call it ...

The Eyeroll of the Week

This award goes to the people who make me AWARE that I am rolling my eyes. This is no small feat, since this gesture has become involuntary for me, sort of like breathing. Probably because I am around teenagers all day.

This week's recipients are Brad Pitt, Australians, and that jerk who tried to make me late to school yesterday.

Brad Pitt also, apparently, has his own overinflated sense of importance, as he demonstrated with this remark: "Angie and I will consider tying the knot when everyone else in the country who wants to be married is legally able."

Of all the pompous, egotistical ...

I bet all our congressmen are saying to themselves, "Gosh, if only BRAD and ANGIE could get married, Iraqi insurgents would see that freedom is good! Drug use would decrease! Literacy rates would rise! There would be fewer AIDS-related deaths! No more hunger! No more infant mortality! Communism would die! We'd find gas deposits in Missouri!
"I guess I was wrong about that whole 'sanctity of marriage' issue after all. Gosh darn it, I'll do it, I'll sign that Gay Marriage Bill and ALL OUR PROBLEMS WOULD BE OVER."

Look, get married or stay single, but don't make it a political issue. I could give a rat's patoot why you don't get married, not that I ever expected you to in the first place. But to act like you're making a noble sacrifice on behalf of the downtrodden ... that is swinging dangerously close to Tom Cruise Territory, there.

Like most people, I was saddened by the Crocodile Hunter's tragic death at the hand? tail? of a stingray last weekend. However, unlike some people, I have not declared war on the stingray community to assuage my own grief.

Let me create some analogies here:
-- My grandma died of lung cancer; if I were Australian, I guess I would take revenge by ripping out her doctors' lungs.
-- My grandpa has Alzheimers; perhaps I would feel better if I forced his doctors to play ten thousand games of Memory with me.
-- I spilled ketchup on my sock; now I have no choice but to squash every tomato I see.
-- Finally, a deer destroyed my car, which is why I am now a guerilla deer-killer, spending my weekends in the woods covered in deer pee and shooting Bambi with a grenade launcher.

Well ... I would, if I were Australian.

Sometimes a mere eyeroll cannot convey the level of annoyance and disgust that I can feel. That is why, during my second week of teaching, I inadvertantly created the One-Eyed Eyeroll, which is both awesome and magnificent. My family says it's gross; after looking at the pictures I tend to agree, though I'm not going to stop doing it (not that I could even if I wanted to).

This week, even though it is only Tuesday, I feel led to bestow this honor upon one person who caused my blood pressure to rise, my teeth to clench, my fists to curl, and my lips to sneer. And she managed to do this in only six seconds, which is an accomplishment that many strive for, but few achieve.

Please join me in congratulating the inaugural recipient of the One-Eyed Eyeroll:

Lady in the Beat Up Blue Corsica Who Was Driving in Front of Me Yesterday

Dear Road-Rage Causer,

The white signs on the right side of the road indicate that the speed limit on the highway is 55 miles per hour, not 51, as you seemed to think. And, though it is an unwritten rule--which everyone but you seems to know, it is typically understood that those driving in the left lane will go faster than the posted speed limit, not four miles under. This lane is often called the "passing lane." They do that for a reason, you know. For your information, pulling your car up to the gang member in the jacked-up Buick and then STAYING THERE is not, in fact, "passing." It is, however, incrrrreeedibly annoying, and even ... a little bit ... RUDE.

The next time this happens, when I am trying to get to school by 7:30 and it is 7:27 and you are MAKING ME LATE, please note that you may experience one or more of the following:

A horn that blares loudly as I drive my car right up your tailpipe
A dirty look that, like Medusa's, could turn you flat out into stone
A raising of the finger of my choosing

Until then, you'll just have to be satisfied with this:

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