Okay, first things first! Sorry about the long absence but I’m back now! Back and even crazier than ever! Now more pantsless!

Toommate said something interesting about my driving the other day. She told me that I’m more aggressive now than I was when she first met me. She’s right, you know. I am. I used to just be a simple driver, chillin’ in the Toyota, always offering up the right of way, waving at random people.

Now? I’m a vindictive bitch who wouldn’t yield the right of way to Johnny Depp.

So what caused the change? I’ve thought long and hard about this and I’ve realized what it was: Last year when I renewed my registration (5 months late), I was given new license plates. I was sad at first. I loved my original license plates. XPM03X. So easy to remember. And I even thought they looked cute. Ah, good ol’ XPM03X. . .how you got me through so many events–my first flat tire, my first time rearending someone, my second, third, and fourth flat tires, my second time rearending someone, not to mention the countless bugs you ate just so I didn’t have to.

See? You can see why I was slightly melancholy. How do you just throw away old license plates? Oh, I’ll tell you how. You open up the new plates and see that they are Z60KNG. Yup, that’s right. Z60KNG.

Z60KNG. Those license plates belong on a 2 ton big rig, not on a tiny purple Tercel made of aluminum foil! The new plates made me tough; they made me strong! I walked out of the DMV with my head held high. I started driving with a vengence. I was Patrick Swazye in Black Dog. I was those muscley wrestler guys in the movie where they do something with a truck. I was a hoss.

See, I wasn’t *just* given new license plates that day. I was given a penis.

I’ve used my penis well. One might even call me “ballsy.” One better, anyway, or I may just run one down with a two-door killing machine. I blaze through yellow lights with no fear. I turn right on red, sometimes without coming to a complete stop. I’ve been known to call innocent drivers “tools” and at least once a week I will holler, “Shit…crapbag!” at the top of my lungs. It’s not Tourette’s. Nope. It’s just my new wang. Z60 Wang. KNG for KING! KING OF THE ROAD!

I’m a little road-ragey even as I sit here now. I’m going to go take a bubble bath and reclaim some of my feminine side. I’m still sweet and I’ll still be your best friend. . .

Just don’t cut me off on a two lane hwy, mofo, or bitch be hittin’ the floor!

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