Rants:

* Road rage. Pool rage. Piano lesson rage. Political rage. Me, all week. Rage, rage, rage. Rage on.

* I don’t mind if you have a big truck. I do mind if you fucking don’t know how to drive it. Man up, would you?

* When I’m stopped for a pedestrian, don’t lay on your horn behind me, pissed that I didn’t run the pedestrian over instead of stopping. Show some compassion, would you? Don’t scream “Bitch!” at me, then get out of your car like you’re going to kick my ass. Don’t even attempt to kick my ass. Why don’t you go out on the street and practice falling down for awhile, first? For reals.

* You. Mom at the Pool. I hate you, lady, and here’s why. When you hovercraft, side of pool, it distracts the other kids in the lesson. It pisses them off. When you kick off your fancy sandals and step in the pool, you are looming over the little Angelfish. That pisses me off. You look huge, lady. Even though you’re one of those skinny wenches who prides herself on it. You look huge to them, looming. Then when you get your shorts all wet, because you’re wading in so far? That’s insane. Do a private lesson, and swim with the kid, why don’t you? Or take him to family play swim, or something. Anything.

* “Different parenting styles!!!” No duh.

* Then when you tell your kid, “Do it! Do it, honey! See? The other kids are doing Ring Around the Rosy, see? DO IT, HONEY!!!” at that point? You piss off the swim instructor, all the other parents, and the kids selling concessions and checking people in.

* I want to smack you upside the head, Mom at the Pool. Especially when you’re leaving, and you insist that your little lovey-wovey-dovey put on his flip-flops “Now, honey. DO IT, HONEY! No? OK, then, I’m leaving. I’M LEAVING. I am! Good-bye! Goodbye!” (Did you notice the way your kid was glaring at you? You’ve majorly, thoroughly, pissed him off, too.) (Did you notice the way he didn’t give a damn that you were leaving? That’s because he is not happy, your kid.) Then when you screamed, “GET OVER HERE! NOW!” from across the lobby? At that point, I am not the only one who wanted to push you in the pool, pretty sandals and all.

* I’m tired, Internets. Why won’t people behave?

Now, the raves:

* Yes. It’s The Bacon Show. (That one’s for Amalah.)

* And… isn’t summertime so bitchin’?

Oh. My God.

Now, three good books that landed on my desk this week that I’m sorry, but I am too toasted to post about (sorry, y’all, but at least you’re getting some linky love here):

Today’s books: