This Video Could Have Really Helped Me

I think.

Gas Mileage Gang Sign

Three. Five. One.

That's what the construction worker flashed me with his hands as I was sitting at a stoplight in my car. Slowly. Deliberately. He was obviously trying to tell me something. I shrugged.

Three. Five. One.

He followed up with another attempt. I looked around. There was no one else he could be talking to. Was he messing with me? Was this some sort of construction worker prank they used to pass the time while baking under the sun holding up a flag to slow people down? He was smiling. My inner teenager began to panic that there was a joke being played on me and I didn't know what it was.

Three. Five. One. He finished it this time by pointing at me. What the fuck was going on? Out of ideas, I flashed the same thing back to him. Three fingers, five fingers, one finger. Point. He laughed and started walking towards the car. I wondered if I had just responded to some sort of challenge. I rolled down my window.

"I bet you get about 35 miles to the gallon in that thing," he motioned to my car.

"Oh. Yeah. About 35, you're right," I hoped he didn't notice my mpg gauge reading 28.

"Sheeeeeeeeit, you can get along just about anywhere then," he grinned and motioned to the stoplight, which was now green, "have a good one, my man."


The Internet is Weird

Yesterday a person I don't know wrote in to my job to complain that a thing I didn't even write was obviously written by me, personally, with the intent of offending him, the person I don't know.

Seriously. He called me out by name in his email. And somehow the synapses in his head fired in such an irregular pattern as to convince him that maybe there's some kind of shadowy internet conspiracy run by me with the insidious purpose of mildly offending some dude in the Midwest via a website he visits.

People are fucking SCARY sometimes.