Dear Smelly 1984 Mazda In Front of Me at the Toll Booth:
I totally get that you are saving a lot of money by owning a car older than you. And I’m sure that you think you’re saving on gas by driving a small car, but whatever you’re saving in gas is being spent on refilling your oil. I’m not sure who smells more, you or me, but at least I have my Smart Tag/EZ-Pass and don’t make cars wait behind me at the toll booth, stinkin’ all over them. You, obviously, didn’t get the memo.

Sinerely,
A Concerned (about gagging in her lap from your smell) Driver

Dear Little Green Elantra Sporting the “Watch More Anime” Sticker:
After freeing myself from behind our smelly friend above, I was blessed enough to drive behind you for several miles. Judging from your distinct driving style, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you watched too much anime.
You seemed to think that jersey walls were for banking corners where there were no corners, and I’m quite sure I saw that your eyes were bugged out taking up four-fifths of your face. Maybe you actually were an anime.

Kindest Regards,
Pikachu Colleen

Dear HOV Enforcement Officer:
I want to thank you for pulling me over yesterday morning as I was flying down the HOV lane, Cooper safely ensconced in his carseat behind me. I know I have passed you nearly every day in the past two weeks because last week as I shot by you at 70mph while you were standing outside your squad car counting heads in passing cars, you hopped up onto the doorframe of your car to better see my rear-facing infant. I would like to think that after seeing me all those times and craning your neck every time I passed you, that you would remember a hot-lookin’ lady in her smelly blue car and vanity plates. I would also like to think you pulled me over just to get a better look at me and had your heart crushed when you saw my wedding ring. So thanks for makin’ my day and letting me see your sweet 20-year old face. And then ruining it by calling me Ma’am.

All My Love Lukewarm Feelings,
A Totally Lawful HOT HOV Driver

To All the Drivers Who Stayed Home Today:
I love you for staying home for whatever your reasons. I was able to get to work, and swing by McDonald’s for some breakfast, in under an hour. There were no reported accidents on my entire route the entire day. I was able to get home without sitting through 6 cycles of a particular light. And for that…MWAH! MWAH!
Now if all of you could just stay home for the rest of my tenure at my current employer, I would really appreciate it. And so would my gas mileage. And my family (nothing like a happy mommy!).

Lots of Love and Tender Hugs,
A Very Happy and Content Mommy Driver

To My “Suns Out, Guns Out” Construction Worker:
I miss you! The End.

Aw…Thanks for the nice compliments about my hair…you gals are all so sweet! And yes, Justin does have his redeeming moments…yesterday morning just happened to be one of them and I was feeling warm and fuzzy enough from the coffee to mention it. Now if he could’ve reminded me (1) before dinner, (2) after dinner, (3) before I ran out to the store at 8:30pm last night, (4) after I arrived home at 9:45pm last night, (5) before or after I made the baby’s bottles, or (6) anytime before 10:30pm that he still needed some white socks, I would totally let him off the hook. But um, getting a reminder at 10:30pm when I’m going to bed for the first time in weeks before 11:30pm was not cool. Especially since he does have the knowledge and physical capacity to start his own load of white socks and t-shirt and could’ve had them nearly done by the time I arrived home from the store. But instead, I got the “um, I still need white socks.” I look at him blankly, thinking, “is he FOR REAL? He’s kidding, right? I’m gonna open the laundry room and see that he did his own socks and is just teasing me.” Nope. So I start a small load of socks and t-shirts for him, then sit up reading until the washer finishes somewhere around 11:15pm, throw the clothes in the dryer, and go to bed at 11:22pm. And I better not hear one joke about that I actually did get to bed before 11:30pm because those 8 minutes do not mean crap in my book.

About an hour later, I hear Cooper up whining and talking to himself. I pull the covers over my head and will him back to sleep. No dice. He keeps talking and moaning and whining. Finally around 1:30am, after he’s had a good hour of entertaining me, he gets annoyed and decides he’s hungry. I get up, feed him, rock him for a while (he seemed really restless and I was not willing to bring him back to my bed), and got back to bed around 2:20am. I was not a happy camper this morning. Which is why I’m still whining instead of giving you some snarky letters to my fellow DC-area drivers. Okay. I’ll shut up now and not get into the conspiracy theory I have about Cooper changing alliances and now partnering with Justin in his attempt to keep me ridiculously sleep deprived. Just please excuse me if you hear any yawning or overt B-n-M (bitching-n’-moaning…not to be confused with BM, which is a nice way of say “poop”).

Dear Cancer Cultivator in the Silver Prius:

We have a lot of you little “green” cars around here. And I love it. I love that all of you have gone out and bought your hybrids for the sake of the Earth and your gas budgets. Virginia loves it so much that they give you cool “Clean Fuel” license plates and allow you the privilege of driving in the HOV lane by yourself! What I don’t love is that while I’m behind you in my little car, you are chain-smokin’ like a man on death row! I actually saw you light your new cigarette with the old one! (please, I’m crabby, no remarks about how close I was driving at 60+mph) The traffic wasn’t even all that bad…I’d hate to see what you do when there’s an accident and they close down 3 lanes. I am of the belief that all the smoke you had billowing out of your car windows completely negated your hybrid vehicle and that you should be banished to the regular travel lanes where the 30mph speed more warrants your anxiety-ridden chain-smoking.

Sincerely,

A Concerned (about my lungs) Driver

Dear Clueless Lady in the Red Jimmy:

Please, please, please, for the love of all that is sacred and holy (and whole), get your brake-lights fixed. You have to be aware from all the chronic brake-screeching behind you that you lack any sort of warning lights letting drivers behind you know that you are slowing down. I’m sure the gentleman in the Nissan between us would agree since he very nearly climbed into your back-seat. At first, I thought that maybe this was a new issue and you might possibly be on your way to get your brake lights repaired this very instance until I noticed that besides having expired license plates, your state inspection tag appears to be a bit over-due as well, meaning that more than likely you been having a great ol’ time watching in your rear-view mirror as the drivers behind you bug their eyes out in panic at your quick stops, like at that light where it just turned yellow as you approached the intersection. Any TRUE Virginia driver will tell you that you can run 6 or 7 cars through the intersection AFTER it’s turned red. Stopping is just a suggestion, not a requirement. And in your case, you (and the rest of us driving behind you) would be better off if you did run a few stale yellow (or even red) lights once in a while.

Kindest Regards,

A Concerned (about my front bumper) Driver

Dear Very Important Parent at my Sons’ Daycare:

I appreciate that you are in a hurry to get to your job and that the rest of us are simply schmucks. I understand that your need to park improperly supercedes any of the rest of us who need to park to drop off our children, because you are a VIP. I totally get it that I was out of line by getting out of my vehicle and trying to retrieve my baby from his carseat in the backseat while you were in the building and not-yet-in-your-car. So in light of your VIPness, I hope you appreciate the scratch down the side of your car from when you opted to walk out of the building, smile at me, hop in your car, start it up, and put it in reverse while I was still retrieving my child from my car. That scratch was a special gift from my car door to you. I guess I should also thank you for allowing me to quickly slam my back door and hop around behind my car before you popped off your passenger-side mirror and/or slammed my own door on my baby and me. That was incredibly decent of you and I hope you saw the gracious words of thanks coming from my lips.

Warmest Thoughts,

A Glad (to be alive? to have my car paid-off? to not have my baby caught in the car door like a white t-shirt? ) Driver

Hope everyone has a blessed Good Friday and a Lovely Easter!

Yes, I am a bit ill-mannered today…after a rough week of unfulfilling issues at work (hate when I just can’t get things fixed), bad traffic, severe sleep deprivation, and crabby kids, I was not about to put up with people’s crappy driving.

Dear Effing Sniggy B**** in the White Yaris:

I understand that where you need to be is WAY more important than where I need to be, so I apologize for my hostility when you tore-up the right-hand turn lane just to cut me off in the straight-lane next to you. I sometimes lose my temper when people completely forget the rules of the road and put other drivers at risk, which is why I shouted filthy profanities, gestured wildly, and honked my horn at you. Silly me, I forgot that even though I am only a half car-length behind the vehicle in front of me, going 50 mph, that you have the right-of-way to squeeze in front of me. Obviously I should have recognized your importance, what, with your bunch-load of scratches and dents on a vehicle that can’t be more than 2 years old (considering that your car model was first introduced with Toyota’s 2007 model-year).

Sincerely,

A Driver that is Glad Her Kids Weren’t With Her (No need for them to witness a royal smack-down at their young ages)

Dear Punk in the Red Explorer:

Maybe you’re illiterate. Maybe English is not your first language. Maybe you’re just a puffed-up idiot that thinks they’re too important to read the 5 signs that specify “Right Turn Only in Right Lane” or the 7 painted right arrows painted on the lane. Either way, since you think you don’t need to wait in line with the rest of us, you did not get to squeeze in front of me, who had been waiting in line patiently for the past 10 minutes. In a school zone. You should be happy that the police officer sitting near the elementary school didn’t see you and that I was too tired to tattle on you (and I totally would have! yeah, I was in that kind of mood!).

Sincerely,

A Driver Tired of Yielding to Self-Righteous Jerks.

Dear Knucklehead in the Ginormous SUV Behind Me in the HOV Lane:

I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated you driving so incredibly close behind me while doing 72mph in the HOV lane with my baby in the back staringat you. You were so close I could see in my rear-view mirror that your little soul patch is slightly crooked and that you have stained teeth. You were also so close that I couldn’t tell who made your SUV until when you decided to try to pass me even though there was no room in the lane next to us for you to squeeze in, nor was the traffic in that lane moving quicker than me in the crowded morning rush. I must commend you for your skill and willingness to ride my back bumper so close at such a high rate of speed–in fact, the only way you could’ve been closer is if I opened my trunk to let you climb on in. Next time I see you , I just might do that.

Sincerely,

A Driver Who Swears There Were Magnets on the Back of Her Car

Dear Roche at DC101:

Thanks for today’s Doo Doo Time Spectacular. I laughed hysterically through the first 10 bars of the song, which is what I needed after driving with the above-mentioned yahoos.

Sincerely,

A Driver Who is a Long Time DDTS Listener

Some of you may remember where I wrote a letter to my fellow Virginia drivers imploring them to get an EZ-Pass/Smart Tag. Well here is the pictorial equivilent of a “strongly worded, single-spaced letter of complaint”.

HEY!!!! GET A FRIGGIN’ EZ-PASS, YA LOSER!!!




OH CRAP! Since when does an officer stand right next to the toll booth lane? Wonder if he saw me spazzing out…?




Hiiiiii Offffficerrrr!

don’t know….don’t care…too lazy to look….

Remember this guy?

Dear Previously Half-Nekid Construction Worker Wandering Aimlessly Near My Sons’ Daycare:

Glad to see you’re back working wandering after a brief cold snap. Also noticed that you are taking advantage of this morning’s balmy 40-degree weather by wearing an extraordinarily filthy waffle-weave “long john” shirt under your bright green safety vest. I can’t wait until tomorrow to see if you reenact “Suns Out, Guns Out” to best enjoy the 50 degrees we’re forecasted to have.

Best Regards,

A Concerned (about my children’s retinas) Driver

Dear Bright Yellow Aveo:

I love your little, itty-bitty, Lemonhead on wheels. What I do not love is when I am driving behind you, trying to run the light the same color as you, and you ssssssllllllloooooooowwwwww dddddddooooooowwwwnnnnnn to about 10 miles an hour through the intersection. I would think that if you’re going to slow down that much that you would just stop for the light…but you politely waited until you were halfway across the intersection to jam on the breaks. Not sure why, unless the grading in the road to keep it from flooding was too high a hill to handle in a high gear? Maybe you were breaking for the railroad crossing a half-mile ahead? I mean, you are the same color as a school bus.

Sincerely,

The Car that Nearly Pushed You Through the Intersection

Dear Freakish Amounts of Jaguar Drivers in One Area of Virginia:

Um, you are not the good Lord’s gift to drivers and cars. In fact, you are simply a souped-up Crown Vic with a kitty glued to the front of your car. Somehow all of you drive like crazy maniacs around those of who lack the cat. Maybe you’re trying to figure out how to drive in such a way as to shake the cat off your hood?…that’s about what it looked like. Otherwise, I’m guessing that the three of you are in a Club and thought hot-rodding at 9am through rush-hour traffic was fun and appropriate. Thanks for the heart-attack.

Warmest Regards,

One of 50 Other Drivers Out to Skin Your Cats