In case you are a fool and don’t know anything about anything, season 2 of The Walking Dead premiered last night. Last season, everyone went to Ian and Shannon’s on Sunday nights to drink and watch the show. This year, Graham and I have a new house that some of our friends have yet to see, so we invited people over to watch the premiere.

The NLCS game was also on and I’d forbidden picture-in-picture on my TV in the living room, so Graham and Craig hung out in Graham’s nerd room to watch both on the giant TV. Ian, Shannon and I were in the living room.

Me, 5 minutes into the show: Do you realize that it’s been ten months since the season finale?

Ian: Yeah, it’s kind of hard to remember everything that happened.

Me: I think there’ll have to be at least one spectacular death in the group in this episode.


If you were planning to watch the episode but haven’t yet and consider this a spoiler, well, sorry. I never claimed to be anybody’s role model. If you did watch the show and were not expecting Carl to be shot at all – perhaps you’re like me and thought maybe the deer would rear up and gore him to death – then, seriously, what in the hell? Do you think it was Sophia? Did Rick give her a gun when he left her at the creekbed? Or do you think it was Merle, because Super Racist One-Handed Michael Rooker can’t be kept down? Who shot Carl is what I want to know, and when do they get to the Ranch? And didn’t you want to slap the bitch right out of Andrea’s mouth when she was being mean to Dale? Ugggghhhhhhhhh. I forgot what it’s like to be this stressed out by a storyline.

I don’t get into that many TV shows, but when I do, I tend to take it to superfan level. There’s The Walking Dead, obviously, plus Parks and Rec and 30 Rock, and I guess Deadwood, although I think we made a mistake by mainly watching it late on Sunday nights, so now I always associate it with being extremely tired and knowing I have to wake up for work in five hours.

Speaking of work, if I had to name one thing I don’t like about the new house, it’s that my commute is about ten minutes longer. This doesn’t seem like much to those of you who live way out in the exurbs and drive more than an hour each way just to score a paycheck, but hey. Don’t blame me. I didn’t make that decision for you. I’ve always lived fairly close to the office, both because it’s just easier and if I had to deal with an hour of traffic twice a day and in between was my job, I’d probably have a nervous breakdown and kill myself. That is if the other drivers didn’t kill me first, and they were certainly trying their very best today.

People, it’s rain. We’ve had it before. And considering this being late October, a slight temperature drop (slight, meaning not below 50 degrees and definitely not anything freezing) is to be expected. There was no reason for the four car accidents I saw between the I-55/I-44 interchange and Vandeventer, and there was even less than no reason for the people in front of me who slowed to 30 on the motherfucking interstate to gawk at the tow truck in the eastbound lane. The fuck, people?! What are you, new? Have you not done this before, and by “this” I mean pilot a vehicle while remaining alive and not killing anyone else in the process? Is it that difficult for you?

It’s easy to stereotype people by their cars, largely because the stereotypes are true. Dudes who drive PT Cruisers decorated with flames and Republican-themed stickers? Not very considerate of other drivers, it turns out. Old people with Jesus fish and “I Brake for The Lord” stickers? They do brake for the Lord, who is supposed to be in everything you can possibly imagine. Hipster cars are (in order) Subaru, Mazda 3, and the Honda Fit, and most people who drive Priuses are fucking assholes.

Every time. Without fail. The jackass in the Prius is the one most oblivious to anyone else on the road, driving at whatever speed they damn well like (usually 50 on the interstate, the same on one way side streets), failing to signal, cutting people off, and refusing to let anyone merge for any reason whatsoever, up to and including there being no more road on which the would-be merger could continue driving. I don’t think they’re being assholes on purpose; when I said oblivious, I meant it. It’s as if Prius drivers are so concerned with their own superiority that they literally don’t realize that anyone else is on the road with them at all. I mean, I know I’m supposed to be a big flaming liberal who loves the gays and the animals and the environment and all that shit, but Prius drivers and their boneheaded effort to save the world while endangering everyone else with a driver’s license is really pissing me off.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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