Spring is here, the time of renewal and joy, but I've got a bee in my Easter bonnet! There are a few things I'd like to say.
First, to the lady trying to back her SUV out of its parking space in the Shoprite parking lot: if you can't handle a monster truck, why are you driving it? Perhaps, if you had put two hands on the steering wheel instead of holding a cell phone in one hand, you could have maneuvered your vehicle more skillfully. And if you had put the cell phone down, you wouldn't have driven straight toward me on the wrong side of the road.
To the driver who made a U-turn on Route 35 from the south-bound lanes into the north-bound lanes: are you kidding? There's a reason New Jersey has cloverleaf turns and jug handles.
To the woman talking on a blue-tooth in the supermarket: if you leave your shopping cart in the middle of the aisle and stand talking aloud in front of the canned vegetables, customers (like yours truly), who can't see the blue-tooth hidden by your wild hairdo, might think you're in la-la land conversing with the peas and carrots.
To the elderly lady shouting epithets at another woman who caused a traffic jam of shopping carts in the market: the only thing more unattractive than a young lady cursing is a an older woman, who should know better, doing the same.
To the gentleman conducting a loud cell-phone conversation on line in Jersey Mike's: the cashier does not care what movie you want to see this evening or your opinion of Zero Dark Thirty. She wants your full attention in order to keep the line of customers moving swiftly. More importantly, she deserves your respect.
To the preachers on television's latest reality series, “Preachers' Daughters”: don't you feel the slightest bit hypocritical professing the desire to shield your daughters from the temptations of society while accepting money to allow the world to watch their wayward path? Obviously, as parents (and preachers), you're on a wayward path of your own. (For the record, I do not watch this trash. Its repetitive commercials are quite enough for me, thank you.)
To the worker who painted the sign (“My Dog Can't Hold It's Liquor): please check your dictionary for the difference between “it's” and “its”. To the person who purchased the sign and hung it in her house for nearly six months before noticing the error: stop your impulsive buying. (For the record, that person is me!)
To the manufacturers of jelly beans: if you can market separate bags of black jelly beans, why not orange jelly beans? Some picky candy eaters (no names, please!) only eat orange and black jelly beans.
To Mother Nature: take a vacation! I've had it with winter; I long to see daffodils, tulips, and sunshine!
Whew! I feel much better now that I've gotten all that off my chest! Sometimes, a gal just has to vent!