I have no idea why I titled this post what I did. I read the line somewhere, and it made me laugh pretty damn hard. And now, the story of my adventures on the way home from work. While making my way home, this overgrown 30-something punk rocker pulled up next to me at a stoplight in his little circa-1987 beat up Nissan hatchback that had flames down the sides. Admittedly, it was 10pm and I should've realized the freaks come out at night, but he was wearing driving gloves. That was quite possibly the worst part. He revved his engine (which must've angered the gerbils inside because they squeaked awfully loud when he did that), twisted his hands around the wheel like a motorcyclist gripping his handlebars and looked over at me. Since someone had to remind this guy exactly what he was behind the wheel of, I raced him to the next light. Let me rephrase that: I stepped down on my gas pedal of my little non-sports-model Honda and easily beat him to the next light, even staying (mostly) within the speed limit. He looked decidedly angry when he pulled up next to me again... apparently, his army of faithful gerbils failed him. In other news, I'm thoroughly addicted to this game. My current high score is 25.686 seconds.