Archive for April 2005

April 14th, 2005

I’ll Be Watching You

It’s April, and you know what that means, don’t you? I’ll give you a hint: it has to do with how long I’ve been around….

Wait, you didn’t forget? How could you forget something as important as our eight-month anniversary? Eight months ago you had no robertwitchger.com in your life. Isn’t that important to you at all?

I mean, I’ve been planning this and looking forward to it for so long now. Look, I cleaned the place up for you. I put new work in my portfolio section. You didn’t even notice my new promo sections!

Do you not have feelings for me anymore? Is it because I steal your clothes? Or because I break into your house and watch you sleep?

Oh, I forgive you. I just can’t stay mad at you. You see, I love you. I love you as much as a website can possibly love a human being. And I just know that we’re going to be together….

Forever.

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April 8th, 2005

I Guess He’s on a “Test-Drive”

The following is why you shouldn’t drive on Highway 70. There are only two lanes heading in either direction. And there’s a pretty good chance that, on a given day, two people — one in each of these lanes — will decide on driving the exact same speed.

And then you’ll get stuck behind a pick-up truck with male anatomy.

At least that’s what happened to Steph and I on our way back from New Bern.

Have you seen this crap? I guess there’s a place where you can buy these. Then you take them home and attach them to the bottom of your truck’s trailer hitch. And then everyone knows that your truck is a dude.

You just know the kind of jackass that thinks this is cool. The only other time I’ve seen them, they were hanging just below a “W” bumper sticker, if this gives you more of an idea.

I figure the best thing to do, when faced with this kind of stupidity, is just ignore it. It’s obviously an attempt to get attention, and you don’t want to give these jerks the satisfaction. The problem is, in reality, I’m nowhere near that mature. Once I realized what was directly in front of me, there was no just ignoring it.

My brain was in a perpetual state of giggling and pointing (“That truck has balls!”). I tried to distract myself with the surrounding scenery. “Ok, I’ve got to stop looking at the trucksticles. What have we got out the side windows? Hmm…there’s a tobacco field. There’s a body shop. And a Bojangles. There’s another tobacco field. There’s another body shop. There’s another Bojang…. No, wait, that’s another body shop…. Well, at least I’ve gone two minutes without looking at them now. What do you suppose they’re made of? Plastic?”

And then I’d realized I’d gone back to staring at them. There they were, swaying back and forth…back and forth…. I was falling into a state of hypnosis behind the wheel.

So not only are they stupid, they could have caused an accident. We have to get these things off the road.

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