“In Repair” by Our Lady Peace sums up how I’m feeling right this moment… “Well it’s good to know that you’ll be okay. I’ve been waiting for this and I’ll be there to sit while you pray. No one’s blaming me. I’m not supposed to wait, when they open up your heart. I have been good, I understood, like a machine they’ll fix you from the start. I’m in repair. The life that we share, I know that I’ll be lost in…”

The angriest I get behind the wheel can’t really even be classed as anger. At best, it’s more of an impatient annoying feeling since it really does take a lot to make me spit nails. Today was the closest I got to getting angry (in a long while) and the closest I got to road rage. There was an old guy driving in front of me at what must have been about 5 mph in a 30 mph zone. Clearly he thought his car was just an extention of his zimmer frame; literally crawling along the road. It was 2-lane traffic as well, and I was going to overtake, but couldn’t since the guy kept swaying with reckless abandon from his lane into my lane as well. He clearly had no respect for the highway code nor citizens in a hurry and that made the Shaolin monk inside of me say “Grasshopper, you gots to ram that foo off the road.” He continued to drive at his pace in the middle of the 2 lanes right in front of me and all the while I was thinking “Come on, old man, push that pedal some more!” Luckily, the road got wider so I was able to overtake safely (gave the guy enough girth to continue his trendy lane swaying). Jeesh, I know life is getting boring when that is the most exciting thing to happen all day. If my car had a snow plough attachment at the front, that would have definitely made it a really exciting day (especially for that slowcoach driver, muahahah). I’m sure I would have rammed the guy off the road to the sound of cheers from the frustrated commuters and fellow motorists behind me.
Also whilst I was out I spotted a guy (who must have been Japanese) with a man-bag (i.e. a hand-bag designed for males). He did look kinda cool holding it in a rebellious fashion over his shoulder (which I like to call the “loaded man-bag” posture — ready to swing) and this kicked off a discussion with my brother once I got home.

Me: What do you think of those man-bags?
Kev: They’re OK.
Me: Do men really need them though or is it just for the purpose of fashion?
Kev: I don’t know.
Me: So would you get one?
Kev: (mumbled) I’d get a French one.
Me: What, you’d actually get one but it has to be French?
Kev: What are you on about?
Me: You just said you would get a French man-bag.
Kev: No I never!
Me: Yes you did, I heard you. So you’d go for something by Louis Vuitton?
Kev: No.

He then denied saying it, but I could have sworn he said something positive about the possibility of a man-bag adorning his collection as long as it was from France. Hmmm, I’ll get all his secrets out of him in no time. The last time, I attempted to trick him into saying he’d kiss a man for free using a classic playground ruse. The playground ruse railed, but I discovered the true price of a kiss. Recap…

Me: So would you kiss a man for an apple?
Kev: No!
Me: Would you kiss a man for a pear?
Kev: No!
Me: So what would you kiss a man for?
Kev: I wouldnt’ kiss him for fruit (Note: Drat, he was supposed to get caught up and say “Nothing”)
Me: OK, what about for money? £20?
Kev: No.
Me: £50.
Kev: No.
Me: OK, £100?
Kev: (pause)
Me: OK, £1000.
Kev: Hmmmm, yes.
Me: Hahah, £1000?! No way! OK, what if it was on the lips for 30 seconds?
Kev: No way!
Me: Not even for a million pounds?
Kev: (considers it for a moment) OK, I’d do it for a million pounds.
Me: On the lips for a minute?
Kev: (thinks again for a moment) OK.
Me: Cool! Everyone has a price.

For about half a week following this discussion, every time I saw him I’m reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m getting really close to finding a multi-millionaire who’s into young Asian boys. Give me one more week.” Yes, I’m evil ;)