Posted by: stillironic | June 19, 2010

What happens when you use up all the good swear words

Baltimore, listen up. The word is “coordination.” As in “there was no coordination yesterday when a major northbound route through the city shut down three of its four lanes. For resurfacing.” Somebody in street maintenance forgot to say something to somebody in traffic control. How do I know this? There was no traffic police directing traffic. As a result, traffic took half an hour to advance one block. And it wasn’t rush hour. As a result, I was late for an appointment. I also used up my entire repertoire of swear words. Thanks a lot, Baltimore.

To make matters worse, a man driving a large SUV veered into my lane and almost hit me. Because he was SHAVING. And not with an electric razor. He was holding a safety razor in one hand and holding his facial skin taut with the other. It didn’t take crack deductive skills to know how many hands that left him for holding onto the wheel. What was he driving with? His chin? (His dick?) Baltimore, I know this man wasn’t your fault. But a traffic cop on duty might have spotted him and his razor and thrown them both in solitary confinement where they belong.

Once I got through the bottleneck, traffic disappeared. It should have been smooth sailing from then on. But, no, Baltimore, it wasn’t. As soon as a traffic light turned green, the light at the next block turned red. This is not how traffic lights are supposed to behave. Which brings us to another word, “synchronization.” Major metropolitan areas have been synchronizing their traffic lights since the middle of the last century, at least. It’s time to get with it, Baltimore. Believe me when I say reverse synchronization breeds contempt. I had already used up all my good swear words. Nothing was left but murderous rage.

Murderous rages aren’t known to be particularly good for one’s physical or mental health. They can also lead to murderous acts. Luckily, no one I happen to despise was in the car with me. Nor was a weapon handy. Nevertheless, Baltimore, adding to your murder rate isn’t something to toy with.

I want you to know, Baltimore, that though I cursed the darkness, I also lit a candle. I phoned 311, the number for reporting nonemergencies, and demanded requested a traffic cop. Whether or not one was dispatched I haven’t a clue. So Baltimore, try to remember coordination and synchronization. The next time I report a nonemergency, I’ll try to remember to ratchet down my irritability.



  1. I’ve just discovered your posts. Funny, funny girl. And your titles are great.

    • Thanks, Lifeintheboomerlane! Appreciate the comment.

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