The Perils of Baby Talk and Other Public Service Announcements

Over the past few weeks, I've noticed some things in my normal, everyday dealings that have left me either annoyed as all hell or scratching my head in bewilderment. Here are just a few examples of the nonsense I see on a daily basis:

1) Parents, please for the love of the god I don't believe in, STOP SPEAKING TO YOUR KIDS IN BABY TALK AFTER AGE 6 MONTHS!!!!!! If you don't, you'll end up having a kid with a completely avoidable speech impediment because you thought it was just so cutesy-wootsey to talky-walky like thissy-wissy. Here's a thought: If your kid is 8 years old, he shouldn't sound like he's 3.

2) There is no such thing as a size 24W skinny-fit jean, no matter what the tag might say. Embrace your curves, big girls, wear clothing that fits properly and dress to IMPRESS!!!

3) On a similar note: There is a very specific body type that looks good in a very high-waisted pant and that body type typically isn't over a size 4.

4) Ladies, please stop hovering over the toilet in public restrooms, especially if you have absolutely no intention of cleaning up the mess you will inevitably leave because women simply weren't built to pee while standing. The seat liners are there for a reason...USE THEM!

5) Seasonal business owners, if your business is not open until July 21, please either remove the sign displaying your business hours (implying the business is indeed open) or add a sign indicating when those business hours take effect. With gas prices as high as they are, help people save themselves the extra trip.

6) Another one to parents: If you want little Johnny to end up getting scraped off the grill of some gas-guzzling SUV, by all means, continue to let him play on his bike in the middle of the street. On the other hand, if you'd like him to see his 10th birthday and eventually reach adulthood, tell him that rush hour traffic is NOT the place for him to pretend he's a BMX star.

And finally:

7) If you're not friends with someone on a personal, non-business level, DO NOT ASK HIM OR HER PERSONAL QUESTIONS YOU HAVE NO RIGHT OR BUSINESS ASKING. Crossing boundaries is NOT cool.

This concludes today's PSA presentation. Thanks so much for reading.

Result of Rain

So I was chatting with my friend Bonnie last night, having an decent discussion that somehow led to Dante's "Inferno" (which was OK because it was in the context of old memories...I'm too lazy to elaborate). While trying to remember the passage that we liked so much, the ice, wind and snow caused the power to go out around 9:45. It was totally spooky because I was all alone out in the sticks and I had nothing at all to give me a point of reference...there was no moon shining to help me find my way around the kitchen. I had to do it all in pitch blackness. Luckily, I have a knack for visual-spatial relations (a.k.a. semi-photographic memory), a mostly useless skill that enabled me to make my way to where I needed to be in order to get some light without so much as stubbing my toe. I was rather proud of that, if I do say so myself. I lit a bunch of candles and realized that I had absolutely nothing to do, so I tried reading by candlelight. After about 20 minutes all I could think was "How the hell did pioneers do this all the time?" It was exhausting, and I felt really old holding the book so damn close to my face. Rather than continue, I blew out all the candles and went to bed. Oddly enough, I took the flashlight with me and read in bed. Why I didn't use the flashlight to read before I went to bed is beyond me...clearly, I wasn't thinking. Then I slept, had extremely weird dreams and woke up a few times because it got really cold in here without the heater running. The power finally came back on around 7:00 this morning. Now I can see enough to cook myself some delicious food. YAY!!!!

Living the Title-Free Life

I can't think tonight. I believe my inability to form a decent thought is from watching a documentary on crossword puzzles...I used all my brain power to try and figure out clues. Prior to that, we (my friend and I) watched a movie about Jeffrey Dahmer that was a bit interesting, even though it had a rather idiotic ending. At least the guy playing Dahmer looked pretty good with his shirt off. Aside from all that, not much is going on in the life of the Minx. I did manage to give someone a little bit of perspective today, and that's always a good thing in my book. I'm looking forward to the weekend, as I'll be falling all over the place in what will probably be an ill-advised attempt at learning how to snowboard. A little excitement never hurt anyone.

Briefly

I've only enough energy for a wee little post tonight. I've been a little sad today. I learned this morning that a friend of my dad's passed away a few days ago and his funeral was today. He used to work with my dad and I was introduced to him years ago. My dad told me to call him "Uncle Jack" even though he's no relation. He was a cool dude and my dad thought highly of him. And, while I really didn't know him well, I'm saddened by his death...mostly because I'm sad for my father losing his friend. I hate the thought of my dad being sad, I hate death, and I hate the fact that I'm crying right now and I don't exactly understand why the tears are falling. Maybe it's stress-plus-death-plus-whatever else is in my head. Or maybe it really is just because it hurts me to know that my daddy lost his friend and is sad. I think I'm too sensitive sometimes.

Tired

While I've been feeling better today than I did the last three days, I'm still not 100%. It sucks. Mostly now I'm just tired, hence the lack of writing here. It's OK, though...I'm sure in a few days I'll be just fine and have plenty of things to write about. Until then, I hope I feel back to my usual self by Saturday.

Back to Work...

After taking yesterday off to hopefully make my stomach feel better, I'm off to work today. All I can say is YUCK! I still feel kind of funky in the stomach, but thanks to what I anticipate to be a very busy day for my team, I can't take two sick days in a row. Yeah, it sucks, but I can't leave my team mates to a huge amount of work when I can possibly make it through the day. So, I'll trudge through and be thankful I can take my time if I need to. Still, I'd rather be home.

Good Day

I'm currently basking in the loveliness of what was a pretty good day. I'd go into great detail about it, but I feel that would only cheapen it for me, so I'm not going to talk about it right now. But the day was good and I can give general details. My morning doctor's appointment went well. Work was slow but didn't suck. I talked to friends when I got home. My shoulder doesn't hurt as much. Good things indeed.

Ick

My shoulder has been very sore lately, rendering me incapable of spending more than short amounts of time at the computer for writing. The level of the desk in conjunction with using the mouse in a relatively chilly part of the house is aggravating the hell out of my right shoulder. Therefore, the blogging will be lighter until the shoulder feels better. I suppose it's for the best, really, since I have little to no useful writing material. I'm fodder-less.

Dull

The sheer lack of excitement in my life has left me with less-than-interesting occurrences in my daily routine. The highlights of today: I finished a book and knit on a sock. I'm knitting the sock with the new sock yarn that I wrote about on Saturday. It's knitting up rather nicely and the stripes are noticeable, yet subtle at the same time. That's about it. Nothing to see here, folks. Move along. Ha!

It Ends Far From Where It Began...

So it's twice now this week that I've been forced to write in the morning because of the fact that I live with people and have to share the computer. I find this mildly annoying...not the living and sharing part, but the part about having to wait until the next morning to blog. It messes up the entire flow of it. I'm an evening blogger, not a morning blogger. If I want to keep up on writing my blog, I'd really like to be able to write when I normally prefer to write. Last night, I had so many good ideas for what I should put on here, but now they're all lost in dream land because I had to wait. I always have better ideas in the evening. I really need a laptop and a wireless connection, but I really can't afford one. Curse my wretched poorness!!! I have to look at something cute now...

To the right are my fine puppy-beasts, Josie and Chloe. Josie is the smaller dog and Chloe is the big one dangling her leg over the edge of the couch (she does that all the time). They are the most wonderful dogs in the whole world. They're loving, cuddly, happy dogs and my life is much better with them in it. They are dogs of the highest quality and they are the best people I know.

I just learned that my friend Shar just lost her sweet dog, Lucky. She'd had her dog for many years, I'd say at least 13, based on the fact that her sister, Jade, was just a baby when they got the dog and she's now a teenager. I met Lucky a couple of times and she was a very sweet and lovely dog. She was nice to me and I was nice to her. I feel badly for Shar because it hurts so much to lose a pet. It's one of the most heartbreaking experiences I've ever known and I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. I think it's because pets love you no matter what. Pets will still love you even if you yell at them to leave you alone. They love you even if you forget to feed them until hours after their normal dinner time. They even love abusive human parents (who should be shot in the knees and castrated in my opinion, but that's another blog entirely). The most important thing pets (especially dogs) know how to do is love and it's also the thing they do best. When a pet dies, all you have is the memory of that unconditional love. Just bittersweet memories...

And No One Was Injured

Last night was a fun night for me. I managed to not stay in my room all night, as is my usual Saturday night activity. Instead I went to my friend Erik's apartment and we did nice wholesome things like throwing desk parts out of windows, watching South Park, eating marshmallows and coconut cake, and making candles. Does it sound much more interesting than sitting home alone knitting socks all night? I think so.

Candle making is a rather lengthy process. This was the lesson we learned last night at Erik's. He wanted to try his hand at making candles and I wanted to not be bored, so sometime around 10:00 PM, we began. (On a bit of a side note, do not begin your candle making adventure late at night. Trust me, it's better to start early) First, we melted the wax in a makeshift double boiler, using a large thermometer to make sure we had the proper temperature. The instructions were quite clear that we shouldn't let the wax exceed a temperature of more than 225 degrees Fahrenheit, lest we risk flames or explosions. And who would want to cause one's own apartment to explode? No one, that's who.

Next, we performed the first pouring of the wax. The wax is poured into the whatever mold is being used and the wicks are then set in. The random game of pick-up sticks at the right is really just to keep the wicks from falling entirely into the wax. Balancing the wicks and the sticks in a manner that would stay in place was by far the biggest pain in the ass of the whole process. After the candles set, it was smooth sailing for the subsequent pourings as far as the wicks were concerned.

After the wax set for about half an hour, we reheated the wax for the second pouring. This was similar to the first pouring, except less wax was used and those pesky wicks were already in place, making it so much easier than the first time around. As the wax cooled (this time for two hours), a deep well formed in the middle of the candles. This is the best shot of the wells I could get. Somehow, I failed to take a picture of the finished product...just imagine the well filled in and the wick sticking out like it's supposed to and you'll have a good idea of how the finished candle looks.

And here is Sir Erik displaying an object that was once granulated wax and was transformed into a thing of usefulness. He looks kind of mystical there, holding a ball of fire. I got several shots of him looking as if he's conjuring the element, but this one was the first and my favorite of the bunch. His casual demeanor belies the excitement he'd previously expressed about transforming raw materials into something that can be used. He was thrilled at the concept. I told him I felt the same way the first time I made a pair of mittens.

Dumb

As our most greedy and gluttonous of holidays creeps ever closer, only one thing seems to be running through my mind: I picked a really dumb time to quit smoking. The stress of Christmas is increasing as the day nears. All I want is a nice, tasty Camel Light. Ah, sweet nicotine, how I've missed you this past month since I left you for pinker lungs. I really should've written down the day I quit, so I can have a monthly anniversary. I think it was November 20. I miss the stress-relief smoking provided. However, I don't miss the stinky breath, the stinky hair, the random burns because I'm clumsy, or the general shitty feeling I had when I was smoking. I don't miss getting smoke up my nostrils or in my eye when lighting up, nor do I miss having the smell stay on my hands long after I put the cigarette out. What I don't miss clearly outweighs what I do miss, so I know it's been a good thing. But sometimes all I really want to do is have a smoke.

Anyhoodle, back to Christmas bullshit. I can't wait til it's all over and I can relax. I daresay, it's driving me completely mad. I must read go read other blogs that are much more amusing than this one. Of course, it won't make this post any longer than the meager few sentence it is, but it will distract me from my Yuletide issues. Goddamn, I hate Christmas.

More Eventful Than Yesterday

This morning was interesting. I got up at the normal time, did my normal morning activities, went out to my car and there it was--a nearly flat tire. Eep! Luckily, my uncle was over at the garage he and my dad share (and in which an air compressor resides). So, I very slowly drove over the snow- and ice-covered driveway to the garage and asked my dear uncle to save me. He laughingly obliged, slightly over-filling my tire so that I could make it to work. I thanked him profusely and was on my merry way.

Things were going great until after I had turned onto Clemens Center Parkway. For those not familiar with the parkway, it is a four-lane roadway that cuts through Elmira. One can get almost anywhere in the greater Elmira area via the parkway. My destination from the parkway was, as it is every day, the highway. I had turned onto the parkway and was going along in the right hand lane and was nearing the traffic light on Cedar Street. Suddenly, this woman in a silver-ish Nissan starts veering from the left hand lane into my lane. The bitch didn't even bother to look and see if anyone was in the lane before she changed lanes and nearly side-swiped my car. Had my reflexes not been so quick, I'd probably be in the hospital right now because the back end of her car would've hit directly on my driver side door. So I beeped my horn, flipped her off and mouthed the words "learn how to fucking drive, bitch," which she saw because she kept looking in her rear view to see my reaction. Then, after witnessing my reaction to her piss-poor driving, she had the nerve to give me dirty looks. She acted like I was the person driving like an ass and she seemed more annoyed with me than I was with her. I mean really, do you think it's appropriate for a person to get more annoyed with someone else's reaction when you've just nearly totalled their car because you were too busy not paying attention to notice a whole entire vehicle in the other lane than the person who was nearly hurt in the first place? I don't think so. Well, I got past her after the light and again went on my merry way until I realized that the bitch was following me. Oh great, now I had to deal with an idiot road-rager on the way to work. Happily, when I arrived at my destination (the highway), she managed to (safely) get into the left hand lane and went ahead of me. Well, she was keeping pace with one of the more irritatingly slow vehicles in my lane as if to stick it to me by being a lane-clogger. Whatever, she was ahead of me and I didn't have to worry about her rear-ending me or trying to run me off the road. I got to work a few minutes late (due to flat tires and lane-cloggers), but I was happy to be in one piece.

Work was work. It was about the same as yesterday, only time seemed to move more slowly today. I called my very awesome dad shortly after I got there to inform him of the issue with my tire. He told me to drop it off at his workplace and swap vehicles, or call him if my tire was flat again. Finally, 5:00 rolled around and I was able to clock out and go home. Yeah, I wasn't quite as able as I thought because the tire was FLAT AGAIN!!!!! Goddamn! I called Dad again and about 40 minutes later, I was rescued for the second time today. Dad brought a portable air compressor thing and filled my tire enough so he could take the car back with him and fix my tire. I took his big truck and finally got home an hour and a half after I clocked out of work. I'm not complaining about being home so late from work, though. My dad's going to be later than normal because of my stupid tire. And because he's the best, coolest dad in the entire universe. I'm really lucky to have such a handy father who loves me so much.

That was my day.

BO-RING!!!

My life lacks excitement right now. My days consist of work, internet, knitting and sleep. Wow!!!! I'm a barrel of laughs for the entire family!!!

While the general blandness of my life is perfectly fine for me, it makes for very, very little blog fodder. I don't write about work and even if I did write about work, there's nothing fun or interesting going on there. The only interest there comes from me wondering who my secret Santa is and really, that can only take a girl just so far. I can't even write about what I'm knitting as even my knitting is boring. It's all garter stitch washcloths and socks (though I really can't fault the socks...socks are ALWAYS fun). For the sake of cheap Christmas gifts, I'm making my grandmothers both some washcloths out of cotton I already had. Not even the yarn is exciting! I had to put the plain sock aside to make the aforementioned cotton nonsense, so I can't even break the monotony with a heel turn or a toe decrease. GRRR!!! All my exciting knitting is taking a back seat to the knitter's version of a lobotomy.

Still, I'm writing a little something. This is mostly because I really need to write on something that isn't on MySpace. I also decided that I really need to write more here because it's a waste of space otherwise (and no one else should be able to take my MinxyLand name due to me deleting all the shit I've written here). Also, I figure that if The Professor can blog to keep himself on track with his dissertation, I can certainly blog for the hell of it. Using his reasoning for blogging to keep the proverbial fire under his ass (haha, I almost quoted him perfectly on that), knowing that someone is reading this does indeed help with keeping posts going. They may not be much, but I'm thinking that the more I write, the better I'll be at coming up with topics. The topics themselves may not be interesting or at all relevant, but I say fuck it. I have one reader and I don't think he'll mind if my blogs suck.

Snow Day

Tufts of lovely white snow cover the porch, the lawn, the hill across the road. The bare trees now are half-covered in a layer of frozen goodness. This is why I love winter--the utter beauty in leafless trees and dead lawns being concealed by wonderful snow. It's as if nature is telling us to look at something new and brilliant while the plants rest for the season.

I love snow and cold weather. Most people think me insane when I say that I love those two things. Snow they usually understand, because it's pretty. It's the cold that makes people wonder about me. So I tell them that I suppose I'd almost be required to at least like cold weather as there can't be snow without cold. Otherwise it'd just be rain and while I like most forms of precipitation, there's something special about snow. It's fluffy, fun and fantastic. But, alliteration aside, snow is a link to a happy time in my life: Christmas vacation and snow days.

Winter days off from school were always a favorite of mine. My sister and I (and my brother when he was old enough) would suit up in our snow gear and play for hours outside. Lop-sided snowmen, snowball fights and even a doomed-to-failure igloo were among our many chilly exploits. The coldness never bothered me. Truth be told, I enjoyed the crisp feeling of below-freezing air in my nose and lungs. I could've stayed outside forever back then, but Mom wouldn't let us. She seemed to think that food was a good thing for growing children, so she made us come inside for lunch or dinner. (That was my other favorite part of snow days, going into the warm house after playing in the cold snow. Both activities were equally exhilarating to me.) So we'd go inside, hanging up our snow pants and coats, laying our snow-crusted mittens and hats next to the wood stove to dry in the warmth. Mom would have sandwiches or soup waiting for us. These are the things I think of when it's cold and snowy. Winter has always made me happy.

The Death of Christmas

This is not my favorite time of year. I hate Christmas with the fire of a thousand suns. Yeah, I know that seems a bit extreme, but I stand by my statement. I originally was going to vent about how Christmas has been so bastardized by greed and gluttony, but I've changed my mind. Instead, I'm going to write about when Christmas lost its magic for me.

When I was a little girl, I loved Barbie dolls. Every year, all I wanted for my birthday, Christmas and Easter was a new Barbie doll. I received so many over the years of my childhood, I could populate a Barbie commune with them. When I was 7, I remember going to school one day (after being out for a couple of days with a nasty black eye) and opening my exceedingly messy desk to find a birthday/get well present from one of my classmates, Sarah. It was a lovely Barbie in a pretty summer dress with blue shoes to match. I was thrilled. I proudly carried that doll home and showed my mom what Sarah had given me in school. I believe that was the beginning of people regularly giving me Barbie dolls as gifts for birthdays and Christmas. I'd say that most often, they were Christmas gifts, but let's face it, that was twenty years ago and my memory is a little fuzzy.

Flash forward from when I was 7 to when I was 11 or 12. This was the ultimate year of the Barbie. Between all the relatives who gave me gifts, I managed to accumulate four brand-spankin' new dolls for Christmas. I'd never had that many new Barbies at one time, I didn't know which one to play with first. Ah, such excitement from molded plastic and tiny articles of polyester clothing! I was, and still am, so easy to please. I thought for sure the number of dolls I would continue to receive would only increase as I got older. I never once thought the splendid feeling of opening new Barbie dolls would soon come to an end.

The very next Christmas, after thinking for an entire year that the previous holiday's bounty was an indication that more and more Barbies would come, I only received one Barbie. I was heartbroken. Surely I should have gotten at least the same amount as the year before, so why didn't I? I was older, and the older you get, the more you get, right? Wrong. It was the last Barbie I received as a gift, ever. Apparently it was decided (without consulting me, of course) that I was getting too old for little girls' playthings. I didn't think I was getting too old, so why did everybody else? I still played with my Barbies, combing their hair and dressing them in the many outfits I had amassed over the years. I loved every strand on their blonde heads, every bendy leg and stiff arm. So why was I too old to get them?

I never understood why. It was then that Christmas lost all its charms for me. I didn't think it then, but looking back I suppose I thought on some level that if I was too old for my cherished dolls, I must have been too old for a child's holiday. Christmas is for toys and I was too old for toys. Sure, I'd get somewhat excited about some of the other things I'd get, like books or a new toy-like gadget. But no one understood why I didn't get as excited as my sister did about getting clothes for Christmas. It's because I didn't want any stupid clothes; I wanted my Barbies, damn it!!!

So there it is, the reason I hate Christmas so much. Perhaps it's selfish, but put yourself in the mind of a tween-age girl whose only passion at the time was a formed plastic doll. I'd been told that I was no longer allowed to enjoy my passion because I was too old for it and needed to grow up. A harsh message that broke my little heart. I've yet to recover.

This Makes Me Wonder...

I recently found out that an ex of mine just got dumped by the girl he dated after me. I assume she dumped him because she's a smart girl and probably (after almost two years of him pretending he's a nice guy) figured out that he's a piece of shit who doesn't deserve someone as nifty as she is. I also assume she's nifty based solely on her MySpace profile, as I have never met her in person. Now, early in January, he paid me a visit after not speaking to me for a year and a half. He'd seen my profile in August and that triggered a huge, four month fight between the two of them, where she brought up valid points and he refused to see them, culminating in her telling him that he needed to have a talk with me "to get closure" before they could proceed in the relationship. He came, we talked, he was a dick, I was calm and rational...it wasn't horrible. Before he left, I told him that if he felt like they were going to break up not to let it get to the bitter resentment stage before it happened (because that's not good for anyone involved). He said that he didn't think there would be anymore issues like this one and that they'd be stronger than ever. He gave me his contact information, as if to try to be friends again and left. I emailed him a couple of days later, and he told me he was just being polite by giving me his information and that he didn't really want to have anymore contact with me. Whatever, he always was a dick.

Fast forward to a couple of days ago. I was reading a friend's blog and found the girlfriend posted a comment. Turns out the blog writer is a mutual friend. The blog involved relationships and the comment indicated that she was somewhat in relationship woe and wanted to find someone worthy of her. So I went to her profile and saw that she'd removed almost every trace of my ex from her profile. Seems that my ex is now her ex. I thought to myself "Yes! It's about time she realized she's too good for him." Now, I feel bad that she's going through the pain of ending a relationship, but I can't help but feel a small amount of satisfaction. That smug bastard acted as if our relationship meant absolutely nothing compared to the "perfection" he shared with her, and now it's come back to bite him.

What I'm wondering is: Does this make me an awful person? I'm trying very hard not to be happy about this, but it's been hard. I think I'm more happy about her valuing herself and what she needs more than a relationship in which her needs are not being met. I'm trying to be more happy about that than I am about him finally getting his karmic retribution for the way he treated me for six months after we broke up (I'm trying very hard to keep these feelings in check because karma is a funny creature and will pop up wherever it wants to and screw up whatever it wants...so I'm trying to be happier for her self-respect than I am for my own satisfaction). I don't know. I feel very ambivalent about this and it probably won't be resolved any time soon.

They Never Get Dirty

I've officially decided that I'm insane. I've agreed to knit hunting socks for a 6'2" man with size 12 feet. That's daunting enough as it is, considering I usually knit regular socks for my much smaller feet, though the hunting socks will be knit with worsted weight, so it shouldn't be too bad. No, the bad part is that he wants them black. Black! It's so hard to check your stitches and rows with black yarn...it's just too dark. Black socks may never get dirty (old high school band joke), but they'll be a pain to knit (based on the fact that the navy socks I knit once were very much a pain because of the dark color). But I'll make them because I like him a whole lot and he asked me very nicely to make them. Also, he shows an interest in my knitting, asking me about construction and how different parts of things are made. I don't think he'll be a knitter anytime soon (or ever), but the fact that he wants to know about something that's as important to me as knitting is very telling. It tells me that he cares enough about me to learn some things about my favorite hobby. Maybe someday, he'll tell me in other ways, too...like verbally. Someday, I hope.

Dude, I'm Resolved!

Some resolutions I've come up with for 2007:

1. Organize my room and find a home for my yarn and other knitting stuff.
2. Continue with my mental health stuff.
3. Find me a quality man...QUALITY!!!!
4. Get laid. (I have someone in mind for this...)
5. Try not to be bitter about stuff I don't have.
6. Try not to be bitter about stuff I don't have.
7. Try not to be bitter about stuff I don't have.
8. Work a lot on that lace shawl I've been working on for almost 3 years.
9. Make a sweater.
10. Knit more for myself.
11. Knit more for others (especially for gift-giving occasions).
12. Start my holiday knitting in June (imagine the possibilities!)
13. Acquire more wool...need wool...must have more wool...
14. Get my taxes done early and use the return for good and not evil...and more wool.
15. Really try hard to do all the stuff on this list.
16. Write more on Minxyland.

That's about it. I normally don't make resolutions, so a list this big may be folly, but I don't care. It's tangible evidence of things I want to do and writing them down may help in accomplishing them. Especially the knitting stuff...is it wrong that, in my head at least, I prioritize my knitting before all the other stuff that's supposed to make me a better person?

Deathtrap Dodge: The Van of Death

Driving onto the east ramp roadway that runs parallel to route 17 between Elmira's Church and Water streets, there was a van. To be more precise, an early-mid nineties model Dodge Caravan that had obviously seen better days. Doc and I were driving behind this fine piece of high-quality Mexi-merican-made machinery when I noticed the passenger side of the back end was lower than the other side. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that there was not nearly enough air in the tire to keep the van level. In fact, when given the right angles to view, I saw that the only tire that did, indeed, have enough air in it was the rear tire on the driver's side. Doc and I discussed this (while wondering aloud as to how in the hell they had fit 8 people along with all the extra shit we could see through the window) and came to the conclusion that somewhere along the way, that tire was gonna blow. Doc's plan was to get around said piece of shit van as soon as possible. The van, however, had other plans and thwarted the first attempt to pass once we were on the highway. It got quite a bit ahead of us and eventually, we came across it again. I looked and said "Oh my God, it's the van of death!" Doc concurred and said "You can tell it's hard to control by how it's wavering in the lane. I really want to get around it before it explodes and everyone in it dies" (or something to that effect anyway). So he tried a few more times to get by it, and eventually succeeded. As we passed, I looked out the window toward the van (and was tempted to open my window to tell them their tires needed air). I turned my head back to Doc and said "No wonder they were wavering so much; the driver wasn't using her co-pilot. They have 3 nearly flat tires and when I looked, she was looking down to her side for something instead of at the road. Dude, they're doomed."