an ode to potholes (as promised)

Cuz what fabulous poetry doesn’t begin with these epic lines…

roses are red
violets are blue
annoyingly bumpy potholes
make me have to use the loo

already drank my coffee
and I take that as my cue
so the unexpected turbulence
may cause a small snafu

oh, city, oh, county,
I’m speaking to you
if you can’t find a way to fix these holes
it’s my bladder you’ll answer to

rope's end

Well this morning really topped the charts: three hours and fifteen minutes to go 94 miles (and take one small detour off the parkway to a quaint little Dunkin Donuts with a public restroom…I MUST remember to not drink coffee on my way to work if it is raining).

Defeat has never really been my forte, so I’m not inclined to accept it now; however, this simply cannot continue. I mean, consider what I could have done with that time had I not been sitting in my car adjusting and readjusting the tension of my seat belt on my bladder. For example:

• I could have finally witnessed the conclusion to my semi-lucid recurring dream about getting chased by dinosaurs and construction equipment through a furniture store. But now I may never know if T-Rex will crush me with his backhoe or if I will ever get that beautiful green sectional I’ve been eyeing up as I repeatedly deathsprint by…




• I could have watched three hours and fifteen minutes of Sham-Wow, Bender Ball, Slap Chop, and Proactiv infomercials and finally been able to get those sap smudges off my windshield, tighten my obliques, make egg salad in a snap, and tackle that adult acne situation. But now I may just have to accept that a good section of my windshield is as useful for seeing the road as beer goggles are for scouting models and my eggs may never be evenly chopped in milliseconds. I am truly missing out on the little things in life…





• I could have even received three hours worth of useful therapy to help me process that bottled up, commute-induced rage that is soooo ready to erupt on some unsuspecting soul. But for now I will have to douse the flames with my trusty coffee, a good chuckle at the unrelenting misery that is my commute, and the kind of patience that can only be built up through years of ignoring the clock on the dashboard, turning up my tunes and pretending that I’m headed towards better things.

Gotta keep on keepin’ on.

and can i get an amen? AMEN!

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, and that’s unfortunate…but it also seems as though I’ve let a lot of things go lately.

Probably because I’ve been too busy driving and sleeping and working and paying someone’s wages at the Shell station and keeping a Columbian farming community in business with my coffee consumption lately.

That’s a lot of responsibility for one person you see. There’s a heck of a lot more than dandruff and dog hair riding on these shoulders, folks.

Now the reason I know I’ve been less than attentive lately is because about a half hour into my commute this morning my check engine light went on.


I’ve seen this once before. I was driving across the country, moving back to the northeast from Phoenix, and was somewhere between my last coffee pee and that mile marker where Officer Jingle, policeman in the great state of Texas pulled me and my gal pal (who was simply helping me move) over under the suspicion that two women in one car meant we were up to some god-hatin’ lesbian fornication. (Anyway, we were up to no such thing – NOT that it was ANY of his business legally, criminally, or otherwise.)

But that time, you see, I just pulled over and gave my gas cap that extra twist and we were good to go! I put that engine in check! Showed it who was boss!

Something about the light this morning made me a little bit less confident, however. I’ve been driving about 200 miles a day for four months now and that’s gotta take its toll. So I pulled off at the rest stop and proceeded to try and look expert about what I was doing. I tightened the cap (just for good measure) and popped my hood. And then I hummed and sighed over the damn thing for about 5 seconds trying to remember how to check my oil. I knew I needed to check my oil, because other than tightening the gas cap that would be the only other thing I could do at the rest area besides give up and phone home. I just couldn’t remember where that little pull tabby thing was. I guess I looked hopeless enough because I was quickly approached by several gas station attendants who promptly discovered that I had ZERO oil in my car.

None. Zip. The pull tabby thing was spotless. I could have flossed with it.

Yeah, so that’s bad.

They filled it up and relayed their prayers for health and riches to me - seeing as how only a very religious woman could have made it to the rest stop with no oil in her car. Apparently it was their professional opinion that I’ve been running on the power of prayer alone.

Oh, how very ironically metaphorical commuting can be.


UPDATE: I am beginning to feel like a real dipstick for not knowing what that tabby thing was called. Thanks, Jackie!

let's flip the track, bring the old school back

So there were two things that made me quite happy this morning and sufficiently distracted me from at least the first 20 minutes of my morning misery:

• It's pumpkin spice season! Much to my excitement, I discovered this morning that Wawa has replaced my usual delightfully bowel-churning chai tea with a much moreso delightfully bowel-churning pumpkin spice cappuccino! I contend that the best thing about fall is not the changing color of the leaves, nor the anticipation of the upcoming holiday season...it's pumpkin spice flavored beverages. And one accompanied me all the way up the parkway this morning. So happy pumpkin spice season, everyone!



• Montell Jordan's This Is How We Do It was on the radio. And really, who isn't in a good mood after hearing that song? So I leave you with this...and my apologies for not being very active on here for the past two weeks...hopefully Montell will make up for it...

overactive bladder

Apparently the software that scans my blog for particular words/phrases/content to select and display advertisements relevant to my readers has noticed that I make considerable reference to coffee pee.
Well Google AdSense, how about you try holding in 24 ounces for 94 miles and maybe you'll be doing the potty dance too!

pee-pees and peas please

After a long day of driving and working and driving again, there are really only three things that I think about on my way home: (1) how I knew I should’ve peed before I left the office, because it’s so much more efficient than having to pull off at a rest area; (2) how no reasonable commute should ever pass multiple rest areas; and (3) how I am so hungry that I could be lured into a Whopper I know I’ll regret.

Oh, and how much I can’t wait to get home to see Super Yummy Boyfriend! (And how much I hope he already cooked dinner.)

While the nagging urge to pee starts pretty much as I pull out of the lot, the hunger is less immediate – from initial rumblings to a dull roar to desperate irrational thoughts like “I may even need to eat before I pee.” **

So…I thought I’d get personal with you on this Thursday afternoon and share the three things that I crave THE MOST during my evening commute:

FIRST: peas.


I love them. I even used to eat them as an after school snack when I was a latchkey kid with full reign over the pantry. I’ll eat them frozen straight out of the bag or heat them in the microwave with a scoop of Cheez-Whiz and some salsa. Butter and parmesan works too.

SECOND: sour cream.


So not on its own, but maybe on top of peas? Or chili? Or chips? Or quesadillas? Or baked potatoes? Or French fries? It doesn’t really matter. I love sour cream.

THIRD: tomato soup with scrambled eggs.

THIS is my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE comfort food. Whip up some eggs, plop ‘em in the bottom of a bowl and pour cream of tomato on top. Okay, quit it with the gagging noise; I can hear you through my computer.

Anyways, so now that we’ve bonded on this intimate gastronomic level, the next time you see me headed south on the parkway, please do me the favor of staying out of my way: I’m starving, I gotta pee, and I’m taking no prisoners (leaves more peas for me!).

Now you know.



**NOTE: For those of you with genuine concerns for my health - I am neither diabetic nor pregnant, nor do I have a UTI. I just drink a lot of coffee and like food. But thanks for checking! Love ya!

get beach sexy with commuter calisthenics

Something about long hours spent in the driver’s seat makes me kind of feel like Quasimodo. It’s not that I’m actively trying to protect my ponytail from increased disheveldom, but every few miles or so I realize that the upper half of my body is leaning awkwardly forward in a posture no Sketchers athletic moonshoes are ever going to resolve. Add some crows’ feet and this is my inevitable future:


I can’t let that happen. So I’ve come up with a few moves to get my duff back up to snuff. Jane Fonda and Michelle Obama would be proud. (note - clicking on illustrations will enlarge them)

FIRST: the BUTT SQUEEZE. This one is a favorite of kegelers and weekend booty shakers alike. Also useful for holding coffee pee, this move strengthens the glutes while forcing you to sit up straight! I love double-dipping! Especially Ruffles in Hidden Valley Ranch!


Squeeze and release. Repeat until you get involved in whatever's on the radio and forget what you were doing.

SECOND: the CREEPY DATE STRETCH. A patented move that has been around for ages. Not only does this reach over the passenger seat stretch out your arm, shoulder and back, its also perfect for when you're starting to doze. The only drawback is that you can only do it with one arm.


Stretch and hold. NOTE: Going in for second base with your carpool buddy during this exercise is not recommended nor endorsed by Crabby Commuter.

and THIRD: the RAISE THE ROOF. SPECIAL NOTE: best to do this one while stopped at a light or in a traffic jam. Secure steering wheel with knees and put your hands flat on the roof, pushing them back behind you as far as you can reach.


CAUTION: may cause strange stares from neighboring drivers, but forget them cuz they totally pick their noses and belt it out to old school Hanson.

a commuter's manifesto

Time for some real research on my trade. The Google keywords: EXTREME COMMUTING. Click Search.

The US Census Bureau, via it’s reputable publishing source Wikipedia, defines extreme commuting as a “a daily journey to work that takes more than 90 minutes each way.” BusinessWeek.com, USAToday.com, and Investopedia.com weigh out the cost-benefit analysis of the extreme commute. Energy conservationists and psychologists join in their consensus. Survey says: it sucks. Pardon the expression but no sh*t, Sherlock.

According to the other guys, the primary motive for extreme commuting is the paradox of better-paying jobs in urban centers, and better (and less expensive) living conditions and amenities/services in the suburbs .

Let me provide you with the real motives for extreme commuting:

1. A strong desire to break the world record for holding coffee pee;
2. A fear of missing the test results of the morning radio show’s Paternity Test Tuesday;
3. An affinity for the reheated leftovers from the rest of the family’s meal;
4. An appreciation for the camaraderie formed with fellow commuters stuck in a 20 mile backup; and finally…
5. The joy of spending 3 – 4 hours a day testing patience, refining cynicism, and observing others at their best (I’m talking to you, Nose Picker in the Subaru and you, Head Banger in the Jeep).