Psycho-Hose-Beast

I've come to realize that I probably have more rants about driving than anything else. This is no exception to the road-related ranting (hooray for alliteration). Driving along the parkway on my way to work a day or two ago, I was in the left lane, easing my way past a few cars in the right lane when I was nearly side-swiped by this big-ish white car that appeared to be either trying to get into the left lane or trying to take up both lanes. I finally made it past the car and peeked over when I was level with the driver. I saw her hunched forward, close the steering wheel, forearms doing most of the maneuvering while her hands were firmly on her cell phone, mid-text. What the fuck?!?!?!? If a message isn't important enough to merit an actual call, it's not important enough to merit a response when you're driving along during what constitutes Elmira's rush-hour traffic. I know people text and drive and I DO NOT condone this in any way at all, but if you really must, memorize the damn key pad so you can at least look more at the road than the phone. Or, think of the safety of others and don't text at all, you fuckin' jackasses.

P.S. Thank you, Wayne's World, for leaving us with such memorable terminology as "psycho-hose-beast." The world is a more descriptive place for it.