frank and beans

I have yet to really address my evening commutes. I discussed this with a colleague, explaining that I'm at my crabbiest during my morning commutes, when I'm revving up my cynicism for the day. During my evening commutes, my commentary typically degenerates into cussing. It's sort of like extreme-commuting-induced Turrets' (but of course, that's not an official diagnosis). Anyway, it's not pretty and it doesn't really make for a good read.

But last night, heading south towards home, something really sparked my attention and distracted me from my verbal tickage.

The dually in front of me was wielding his mojo, proudly displaying a pair of truck balls that swung freely from his rear bumper. And these suckers were big! Bigger than this pair I googled up for your viewing pleasure:

And more of a Caucasion hue. I just don't get why people do this. Okay, it's swell for an initial snicker, I'll admit it. But isn't four wheels on your rear axel and your cunning ability to drive across the grass median or up on the curb when you just don't feel like waiting for traffic to accommodate your traveling progress...isn't that sufficient enough to prove you've got cojones? Do I really have to see them?

And what I really want to know is - if I crashed into you there would it really, really hurt? Because you're going the speed limit in the passing lane, and although your hangers-on distracted me for a moment, I really just wanna get home you, big fat poopystain (cussing censored).