It snowed today. I think it started around three in the morning, but there was maybe half an inch on the ground when I left for work just after six. The roads weren’t that slick. I mean, they were a little slippery from moisture, but mostly it was just hard to see the lines because the snow kept blowing across it in ghostly mini tornados and St. Louis still won’t put any fucking reflectors on the roads like a normal city. I got to work on time as usual, but if I’d left the house just 15 minutes later or fallen victim to the famously awful drivers here, I could have been very, very late.

St. Louis. What in the balls. What is it about the tiniest bit of snow or rain that turns you into homicidal maniac toddlers behind the wheels of your vehicles? I mean, I know that you’re incapable of behaving like civilized human beings in the best weather, but when it’s a little bit shitty out, I don’t think it’d be that hard to drive like more subdued versions of yourselves. Mind you, this does not mean sticking to a 25mph crawl on the interstate. That’s dangerous. While I’m sure that a number of today’s accidents were the result of reckless drivers, I would also wager that you overly careful/not as overly intelligent drivers caused more than a few people to dangerously hit the brake or swerve to avoid hitting you because WHO DOES 25 MPH ON THE INTERSTATE. If you’re that afraid to drive on the interstate when it snows, then you need to drive on the regular streets. There are things like GPS devices, smartphones, and these bizarre little tools that people once used to circumnavigate the globe called maps in existence, fucking use one of them and stop fucking up my commute.

Although it’s not like the streets were any better. I avoided the interstate on the way home in favor of a major road, knowing that it would have been salted and well-traveled. It was, but most of the drivers on the road with me didn’t understand this and slowed to 10mph the entire. Fucking. Way. A commute that normally takes 25 minutes took 50, and I can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow.

I am one poor bastard.

Although I’m not so poor of a bastard that I treat the work bathroom like my home bathroom. There’s like three women on my floor who keep arsenals of makeup and hair supplies in a single cabinet in the work bathroom, and you never know when you’ll walk in one of them straightening their hair, curling their eyelashes, or brushing their teeth. And they always look at you like “what are you looking at?” and I want to say “a weirdo who thinks they can do all of their disgusting home stuff at work.”

I just don’t understand people who treat the office like their home. They do gross shit in the bathroom, leave dishes in the sink, and clip their nails at their desks. I want my office to the opposite of my home. I’ll hate my office anyway, but if I keep them as far apart as possible, then at least I’ll love my home more.

Speaking of home, I’d really like to win the lottery so I can hang out in my living room, get stoned, and watch Planet Earth marathons. Doesn’t everyone?