Tag Archive | florida sucks

WO: Weekly Obsessions

Let’s kick off 2012’s WOs with a full-fledged dose of A.D.D., shall we?

  1. Cereal with a Fork: This comic blog was recently Freshly Pressed, drawing attention from me and a thousand others. Smart, with just the right amount of snark, it covers everything from relationships to pop culture.
  2. Double Dream Feet: Much better than the original (Double Dream Hands), this YouTube gem still has me laughing, months after first seeing it. Wipe like “safe” … rubber legs!
  3. 52 Examples Why Florida Is Still the Craziest State: If you ever doubt the pure insanity our dear Sunshine State has to offer, here are 52 reminders. Bonus points: My OG hometown (Port St. Lucie) is reppin’ it hard. Should have trademarked “Floriduh” when I had the chance!
  4. 20 New Year’s Resolutions for 20-Somethings: If you can’t imagine life without the Kardashians, or you contemplate in Twitter (140-character-or-less thoughts), or if you just need a good laugh — check out these resolutions. Perfectly imperfect, just like your 20s should be.

Now, step kick out to the side — as high as you want to … jazz hands!

Images courtesy of Cereal with a Fork, Pop Goes the Week, WTSP973 Radio Now

Oh, the Weather Outside Is Weather

If you’ve spent 10 seconds in Florida, you’re already aware that nobody here should have a license. And if you haven’t had the distinct honor of visiting God’s waiting room, then shorely you’ve read my rant about it and are well-informed.

This problem only grows progressively worse throughout the summer as storm clouds roll in. They establish residency quicker than Elian ever could, and they make everyday travel a real pain in my ass. What’s a state full of geriatrics and idiots to do?

Your options:

  1. Go slow. Too slow. Do less. You might as well be going backward. If you approach the 20 MPH mark, come to a halt immediately. Don’t you dare allow the stumbling homeless man’s speed intimidate you.
  2. Tailgate. I’m not talking grilling brats and drinking brewskies, I’m saying to follow so closely that you can read the back of my Spice Girls shirt. And judge me for it.
  3. Stall out. While this one can’t always be avoided, I highly suggest you think before driving your MINI Cooper through streets with 3 feet of standing water. Oh, you flooded the engine? I, for one, am shocked!
  4. Frantically change lanes every 5–10 seconds. The left lane is moving, so you move over. Dammit, now the right is zooming … guess you’ll have to switch back. Ack, the guy on the left is turning; hurry! Why bother staying in one lane? Amateurs.
  5. Swerve without looking. Similar to changing lanes like a tard, you’ll need to swerve around puddles — but only do so without checking for cars around you. Really, you didn’t see my tank of an SUV? That’s because you’re too busy with your head up your sphincter.

Oh, shit.

I’m not saying gun it to 88, Doc Brown. I’m just saying I’d like to reach my destination sometime before I hit retirement — and in one piece, no less. Based on this week’s forecast, that’s not likely to happen.

Nobody in Florida Should Have a License

I live in Florida, or as I lovingly refer to it, God’s Waiting Room. The disproportionate amount of elderly people, zit-faced teenagers and clueless idiots to normal folks is astounding. That’s why, I hereby propose that nobody in Florida should have a driver’s license.

Around these parts, people make their own rules. That red light? Merely a suggestion. The stop sign? There for decoration. Those pedestrians? They’ll get out of the way.

The logic behind the “decisions” my fellow drivers make on the daily is baffling.

  • Speed all the way to the end of the lane that’s ending, ignoring all of the signs and the flashing lights telling you to merge … to cut right over at the last second and nearly cause an accident.
  • Take up two lanes at a time because you’re unsure which side of the road your Bingo hall is on (Side note: I’m a fan of Bingo, when margaritas are involved). Don’t worry about the drivers behind you; they don’t mind.
  • Cut out in bumper-to-bumper traffic when you don’t have the right of way, because you are more important and your destination is far more interesting.

Sound familiar? Welcome to Hell, or as I like to call it: the daily commute.

Few things infuriate me more than the traffic we suffer through in The Sunshine State. I’m aware that there are shitty drivers anywhere you go but that doesn’t make up for the fact that those here are just plain insane.

What’s more is that nobody even seems to notice that they’re putting others in danger because of their moronic actions. Surely that text can’t wait until you’re stopped or in park. The food must be consumed as quickly as possible or you’ll die of starvation. That little lever next to the steering wheel (standard in all cars) isn’t meant to signal anything other than too much attention to detail.

And when the loverly weather isn’t perfect, just fucking forget it. Hurricane season lasts five months so as you can imagine, it’s literally a shitstorm every time it rains. Roads are wet and visibility is low, but why bother turning on your headlights or wipers? It’s not worth it to slow down at all — that will just make you late.

As much as I’d love to see snow on a regular basis, I have to remember that the death trap that is I-275 wouldn’t last a week if ice was added into the mix.

Aside from moving, I don’t see many options for resolution.

It’d be great if drivers were tested every few years to ensure that they at least have some functional brain activity before being let loose. The fact that you can take a test at 16 and then continue to operate a ton of metal without being assessed for the next 80 years is beyond me. I’m willing to bet a Floridian OK’ed that.

Why I Need Florida to Hurry Up and Get Cold

It’s October, people. In Florida, that means it’s a mild 80–95 degrees Fahrenheit, with roughly 80% humidity.

I need it to hurry up and get cold.

My whole life, I’ve lived in The Sunshine State. I’ve raked all of three leaves that fell from the tree and attempted to jump in my pitiful pile. I’ve passed on Thanksgiving Day football games, because the air is too thick for me to run around. I’ve spent Christmas Day outside, sweating in a turtleneck and jeans. (That’s not entirely the weather to blame; a turtleneck? Yikes.)

I’m a creature who prefers being cold to hot. I would rather bundle up in a blanket than feel sweat beading and my skin boiling … weird I know.

That said, this state is too damn hot. And it’s too damn late in the year for me to wear a cardigan and want to rip it to shreds on the walk to my car.

I would like to take a break from shaving my legs — but I can’t wear pants every day when the Sahara desert is my backyard. I have scarves and long-sleeve shirts that have hung in my closet for 10 months, and there’s no sign of them making a return to my wardrobe anytime soon. I long for a walk from Starbucks where a hot coffee doesn’t make me want to take an ice bath afterward. I daydream about the evening when I will stumble home from the bar and shiver from the cold.

All I ask is for an itty bitty drop in temperature. 10–15 degrees would be heavenly. Is it too much to ask that I be able to make it through the night without kicking off my comforter in a fit of fury because I feel like I’m in a sauna?

Such is life. And to that I say: F you, Florida.