Tag Archives: guest posts

You Can’t Say That On TOL

Posted on May 11, 2012 | 54 Comments

I think because TOL is a place to say what you often can’t elsewhere, a lot of the guest post submissions I get are either very vulnerable or very boundary-pushing. Posts like these can be wonderful because vulnerability allows for community and connection, and pushing boundaries can create more space to think and grow.

You can see that I do a lot of this in my own writing, but what you may not see is that I take a lot of care to walk an often thin and tremulous line between saying everything that I think and saying everything that I think is beneficial. When people call me “unfiltered,” I sometimes think, If you only knew…

So when I get submissions that go too far, I don’t use them, but I think it might be helpful for my fellow bloggers and writers to understand how I come to decide what can and can’t be said here, not necessarily so that you might have a successful guest post for me (though that would be lovely), but so that it might help you decide how to go about determining your own boundaries in blogging and writing.

When you consider using words, images, or stories that have clear potential to shock, you have to be really honest with yourself about not only your intentions but also the ramifications for your readers. You can have the deepest, most life-changing thought, but if you present it in a way that turns people off, they will have a hard time letting your good message sink in. So when you re-read what you’ve written, you need to see if you can comfortably square it with how you want to present your thoughts and yourself to your audience.

Try running these questions by your very most honest self:

  • Do you want to shake them up so they’ll really have to consider something differently, or do you just want to shake them up so that you can grab their attention?
  • Are you making them uncomfortable only out of necessity?
  • Is there a more gracious way to approach?
  • How will the shocking elements affect the trust/rapport you’ve built with your audience?

What advice would you add for determining boundaries in writing? Do you struggle more with letting your writing be a little risky or with reining it in?

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Mr. Tamara Out Loud Tells All!

Posted on May 4, 2012 | 67 Comments

Last week I took your questions for the man who sees me in sweatpants and a night guard and sleeps with me anyway. Today, he’s got answers! Some of them made me tear up, most of them made me crack up– and all of them pretty much made me fall in love with him all over again. Here’s my Bryan. –Tamára

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bethsciallo:

What do you do with the kids when mom is in the writing “zone”?   It depends– when she is writing in the house, there is typically a lot of yelling and screaming (plus whatever noises the kids & I are making), so I just try to keep them busy.  If she gets out of the house, for whatever reason the kids don’t feel her absence as much and they are just fine.

Joy:

What do you see when you look at Tamara?  The 1st thing that comes to mind. The thing that makes you rest in the truth that she is yours and you are hers?  I see my best friend, the woman who I have grown up with and plan to grow old with.

I see the man who loves me.

Oh, and I love that you wrote about a shirt button. My hubs made an entire documentary in film school about a little store in NYC filled with nothing but buttons. Maybe y’all should go have a beer?    I’m in– just so long as this guy isn’t your husband.

andilit:

Has Tamara ever written anything on her blog that you wished she hadn’t? And if you don’t mind sharing what and why you wished she’d kept that quiet, I’d love to hear.  I can’t say there is anything she has shared that I wished she hadn’t.  I usually read what she writes before she posts it, and she asks me what I think; if there is anything questionable, she always checks if I’m okay with her sharing.

Carter:

First question: Why the hell do either of you remember how tall you were in grade school?! I have to look at my driver’s license to know how tall I am NOW.  I remember getting weighed and measured in PE right before high school started and hoping that I would hit that elusive 5′ even goal. It finally happened the next summer. You don’t easily forget going from 5’ to 6’ that fast.

Second question: How does Bryan feel being the man behind a good woman? Um, that totally came out wrong. Never mind.  Yeah– better leave that one– I promised myself I would keep these answers relatively clean.

Gratuitous picture of hot husband to break up lengthy question section.

Third question: Do you get as worked up as TaMAHra does when people mispronounce her name? Seriously, how many gray hairs has this caused her to sprout? Do you get similarly enraged with people spell your name with an “i”?   (If I admitted on here that Tamara had any gray hairs, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be welcomed back home after work.) When I’m emailing somebody and sign my name and then they begin the reply by spelling my name with an “i” when they just flippin’ read my name, it ticks me off.  I usually find myself replying back intentionally misspelling their name as badly as I can.

Fourth question: In seriousness, how do you deal with the negative attention that comes Tamara’s way because of this blog? I know that she’s gotten some. Have you had to tell someone to “step off,” “talk to the hand” or eat your shorts? (Disclaimer: I am apparently unable to make references that touch on topics that happened after 1994.) I’ve never actually had to tell the “wastoids” to  “take a chill pill” or I’ll “open up a can of whoop a$$” but I have definitely wanted to.  I think most of the negative attention becomes fodder for us to make fun of late at night.

Cassie Chang (@TinyandFierce__):

How has Tamara’s faith affected your own journey with faith? How did you deal with the times when you weren’t on the same spiritual level?

Becky Fletcher Holloway:

What was it like being married for so many years with different beliefs?

I know she wouldn’t agree, but from my perspective, she’s always been so strong and confident and unwavering in her faith.  When we had different beliefs, it wasn’t really something I felt like I had to deal with– it was hard for her, but for me it just wasn’t a big deal.

kevinrhaggerty:

When Tamara puts on a new roll of toilet paper, does she let the paper hang over or tuck under? Because, over is the only acceptable way to do it. Right?  I honestly have no idea what way the toilet paper hangs, nor which way it’s supposed to.  When I’m using it, I’m just focused on the job at hand. [Editorial note from Tamára: The correct way is to hang it under. I will change it if it's on the wrong way.]

Meet the Buttrams:

Just how BAD is Tamára’s sweet tooth?  This is vital information.  As I type this, I am 2/3, ¾, done with a good sized bag of Sour Patch Kids, so I might not be the best judge.  Maybe it’s a communicable disease?

reconciling viewpoints:

My personal Secret Service? HIRED.

Do you ever find yourself in protective mode where you want to go find someone that was abusive in comments with your loved one and take them out? Baseball bats, etc.? I absolutely find myself in protective mode.  When she starts writing books, I’m probably going to need to recruit a posse to shadow her when she travels (any volunteers?).  I keep threatening her that if she ends up doing a lot of traveling, I’ll quit my job and be her traveling security.

curly2880:

What little quirky things bug you about each other? Hmm – I just asked her the same question so I would be safe writing something here, but she thinks I’m so perfect she can’t think of anything.  So, umm, neither can I… Just kidding. I really can’t think of anything.

Leanne Shirtliffe:

(a) Tamara’s oddest food obsession is fish tacos or sweet potato fries.
(b) When Tamara was at Killer Tribes, I spent the entire day trying not to see what time it was until her speech was over.
(c) My favourite quirky thing that Tamara does is fold candy wrappers into perfect squares after she eats the candy.
(d) The best thing about Canada is Youppi.

Sarah H.:

Tell us about something you never would have done if you didn’t have Tamara in your life. This could be a long list.  I never would have gone to see a musical, gone to church, witnessed the births of our five beautiful children, or attended a high school prom in a powdered blue tuxedo.

He also wouldn’t have been a Converse convert.

Then tell us about something she never would have done if you weren’t in her life.  Wow the list of things I never would have done without her is way more impressive than what I can think of here.  She never would have seen any of the Star Wars movies or gone to a game at Fenway Park.

I’d also love you to give us the top three things that make your wife different from (and better than) what the Tamara Out Loud image can convey given the limitations of the blogging medium. 

She is a very protective mom.  Cross her family and she comes out baring claws.

She gets so much joy in sharing her writing, especially when she gets a comment from someone that her writing has helped.

She doesn’t actually talk about bacon that much in real life.

Dawn:

What do YOU think of Tamara’s blog? Has there ever been a post that surprised you?  I love her blog– I try to read every post before anyone else, but sometimes they aren’t done until ridiculously late at night.  The two that surprised me most were Watering Weeds into Flowers and What’s a Girl Worth.  Watering Weeds makes me smile every time I read it, plus it makes me sound all wise and stuff.  What’s a Girl Worth made me hug her non-stop for probably 2 days straight.

Chad Gibbs (@Chad_Gibbs):

Who is your favorite soccer club, Bryan?  I’ve always liked playing soccer, but I’ve never been a big fan of watching, with the exception of the World Cup where my favorite team is whoever is playing Brazil. They just strike me as the NY Yankees of soccer.

“I’d rather do it than just watch.” TWHS

sonnylemmons:

In the movie of your life, who would play the button? (Really; Tim Burton would kill for the movie rights to this.) That would easily be the worst movie ever, like Jersey-Girl-bad. But of course Ryan Gosling would play the button, just for Tamara’s delight.

Have you ever considered asking people to pronounce your name Bry-YAHN to match your wife’s pronunciation?  Ha! Now that just sounds pretentious.

And as a fellow husband: Seriously, how have you not/how tempted have you been to find and be less-than-passive towards some of the comments – both personal and critical – that have come towards Tamara?  My not-so-kind words towards those comments always come out– I just don’t want them to reflect on Tamara’s space, so I just share them with her.

Mandie Marie:

Do you like black licorice flavoured things?  Can’t say I’m a big fan– I can’t stand the jelly beans or Jaegermeister, for instance.  But I do enjoy a good piece of licorice, especially the ones shaped like pipes– do they still make those?

Chad Jones:

On a scale of 1-10, how stoked are you about Marvel’s Avengers hitting theaters this coming Friday?  I have to admit, my enthusiasm is a little bit tempered because I still haven’t seen Thor or the new Hulk.  I’ll give it a 6.5 now, with a good chance of 9 if I enjoy Thor (which I’ll finally see tonight).  I grew up a Justice League fan– if they finally ever get a movie, that would be an instant 11 out of 10.

Lisa Colón DeLay (@LisaColonDelay):

You guilty pleasure is…..?

These: They are delicious; I could easily eat an entire bag in one sitting.

hopefulleigh:

When are y’all going to visit Nashville and have fried pickles with me?  Wow I got all the way through these questions without a single inappropriate joke, and then a pickle comment gets lobbed my way.  How can I resist? Tamara is the only pickle fan in this family. ZING.  But visiting Nashville would be really cool.

Are you going to see The Avengers? What’s your guilty pleasure? Which way are you supposed to hang toilet paper?

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Guest Post: “Second-Best Mom”

Posted on April 24, 2012 | 39 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from one of my dearest real-life friends, Sarah Hamersma. Sarah is such an important person to me, it’s hard for me to boil her down to a few words in an intro. So please just get to know her a little here, and be blessed. –Tamara

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

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I hate coming up short. I like to succeed, and if there’s a right way to do something, I want to do it that way. Why settle for second-best?

We economists actually have a theory of the second-best (bear with me here). While we know the “first-best” solution to many economic problems, sometimes the scenario just doesn’t fit: markets aren’t perfectly competitive, people aren’t perfectly informed, conditions aren’t perfectly predictable. When we can’t have the first-best, we shouldn’t just wring our hands – we should try hard to find the second-best solution and shoot for that.

After many years as an economist, I found myself flung into the world of the second-best when I became a mother. I wanted to learn the right way to do things and then do it. When I set my mind to something, I should be able to make it happen. I could work full-time, serve in my church, spend time with my husband, and still find a way to be a perfect mom to my children…right?

Wrong. The no-TV-for-little-ones rule was quickly broken. The environment-saving cloth diapers were used enthusiastically for a little while and then relegated to the closet for months. The special grinder for making baby food using real food – from the farmers’ market, of course – was moved aside to make room for the jars (“Well, at least I try to buy organic,” I comforted myself). And I finally broke down and hired someone to help clean the house. I remember admitting to my friends, “I’m not actually hiring her to save myself time cleaning; I’m hiring her because I want things to be clean for my kids and I’ve discovered that I just don’t do it.” And that’s the key: I don’t. It’s not that I can’t – it’s that I don’t. Apparently, I won’t. It was hard being such a disappointment to myself.

But God’s grace is big enough for even a person who discovered her self-absorption a little late. I have started seeing ways God can use my efforts for the good of my children even when they’re second-best (the efforts, not the children, of course).

Not long ago, a sale attracted me to something the first-best mom in me never would have bought:

This package contains flour, sugar, shortening, nuts, and white chocolate chips – most of which already live in my cupboard.  But under this wrapper, they were already made into one giant rectangular patty of cookie-dough goodness – even scored into a dozen squares with, apparently, a dull pizza cutter.  Last night, I decided that my nearly-two-year-old Lucas should get to make cookies with mom.

Out they came.

I broke off the cookie-dough bricks and handed them to Lucas, one by one, to put on the pan.  I rearranged them when they threatened to turn into a single mountain of dough.  About halfway through, he discovered that they were yummy; the next couple squares got big bites out of them on their way to the pan.  I tried to stop him, maybe a little harshly, and then I remembered sneaking cookie dough when my mom had made cookies with me – real cookies, from ingredients.  I laid off a little.  When the cookie experience had exceeded his limited attention span, I finished loading the pan, giving him a few white chocolate chips for his trouble.

They went into the oven.  We waited, watching through the window of the oven door that desperately needed cleaning.  The ridiculous blocks of dough looked like ice cubes melting into their own puddles.  Would they ever look right?

Well, this second-best mom decided it didn’t matter if they looked right.  Because what I was looking at was not the cookies, but a little boy’s face.  And this – this looked just right.

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Sarah Hamersma is an economist, a mom, and a Christian– hopefully all at the same time.  She plans to keep being these things every day for the foreseeable future, despite her lack of trinitarian capabilities.

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Guest Post: “When You Take Your Twins to Church”

Posted on April 10, 2012 | 87 Comments

Today I have the pleasure of hosting one of my dearest online friends, the incomparable Leanne Shirtliffe of Ironic Mom.  Between her killer wit and her beautiful heart, I was smitten as soon as I met her, and of course I love a gal who’s handy with an innuendo (if you know what I mean). And, like me, she knows that the best way to handle life with twins is to laugh at every opportunity. –Tamara

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

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There is nothing quite like suppressing a laugh in church. I do this often with my seven-year-old twins, who expend more energy and provide more entertainment than Cirque du Soleil on speed.

Here are ten churchy things Vivian and William have done that have made me want to crawl under a pew, curl up into the fetal position, and pray that the Second Coming is imminent –like in the next thirty seconds.

10. During the sermon, William started playing a loud version of I Spy. He started with “I spy something gray.” It’s an aging congregation.

9. When the choir started singing, William put both hands over his ears and kept them that way for the length of a cantata.

8. When I led the children’s craft before the service, Vivian asked if she could have more fairies for her cross. “They’re angels,” I said. I looked at William, who was holding up his stickers. “I know those are dolphins,” I said. “I couldn’t find fish stickers.”

7. Vivian and William had a hockey brawl, fighting over who got to put our money into the collection plate. I got hit with an upper cut.

6. When the pastor asked the children what God looked like, Vivian’s hand shot up. “Half man, half woman,” she said.

5. After partaking in bread and juice for the first time in communion, William loudly asked, “What was that all about?”

4. On another Sunday, Vivian returned to our pew after having communion and announced, “Jesus tastes yummy.”

3. The next week, Vivian was first up to the communion rail, knelt, and tumbled off in a sideways somersault.

2. While watching a baptism, William backed up and rear-ended a taller-than-him candle. It was set upright before the entire congregation had to stop, drop and roll.

1. Immediately after saying the Apostles’ Creed, Vivian turned to me and asked, “What’s a virgin, Mom?”

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Leanne Shirtliffe is the mother of seven-year-old twins. She blogs at IronicMom where her motto is “If you can’t laugh at yourself, laugh at your kids.” To escape from her kids, Leanne teaches junior high and finds that dealing with ninety-seven teenagers is often easier than being trapped in a house with her own spawn. Leanne is currently finishing revising her first manuscript, tentatively titled Get That Train off Your Penis: Things I Never Thought I’d Say As a Parent.

You can connect with her on Twitter and Facebook.

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Guest Post: “Bus Magnet”

Posted on March 26, 2012 | 22 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Ken Hagerman of Rambling with the Barba. Ken has a soft heart and a well twisted sense of humor, which he uses– more often than not together–  to drive home great messages. Enjoy! –Tamára

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

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The guy I bought the VW Golf from never told me it was a bus magnet. A couple of weeks back that little green road warrior played a poor man’s Magneto and sucked a bus right into the front fender. It’s not a bad hit but it is a little frustrating. We are only two weeks removed from having the motor rebuilt so the prospect of having it in the shop again is nauseating at best.

The operation of a bus here in Paraguay is like a choreographed dance. Something akin to a circus performance. Imagine a carnie juggling knives that are on fire, with a backpack full of Africanized bees, walking over red hot coals that have shattered drink bottles spread liberally throughout. He is doing all this and still needs to pour a steaming hot cup of lava in the thimble sitting in your lap.

That is a fairly accurate description of one man driving the bus, taking money, giving tickets, closing the door, making change, and responding to the other passenger who just rang the bell to get off, while navigating the lunacy that is traffic here. It’s no surprise that there are plenty of bus accidents.

I was waiting for the bus to pass so I could make a right turn. I looked up and noticed something very odd, very odd indeed. The driver of this particular behemoth had his back to me. Yeah, that’s what I said. He had just picked up a passenger and was exchanging a ticket for money and making change. He was doing this while driving one direction and looking in the other.

Check the mirrors.

There’s a car back there assuming the textbook I’m-gonna-push-your-crack-into-the-street-if-you-don’t-move stance. Basically her bumper was casting a shadow over my dash she was so close. CRAP!

Plan B– Horn.

A few months ago my horn took a dump and I used the occasion to replace it with an air horn of substantial vigor. I thought. My barrage of blasts blended in with the chaotic rhythm of the asphalt symphony and went unnoticed. So there I sat, in my little econo-box patiently awaiting impact as the giant steel street god lumbered in my direction. I nearly had time to call in for a pizza before the jolt. Helpless, I sat watching e-v-e-r so sloooowly until…

BAM!

The bus stopped and I got on to talk to the bus driver about how to deal with this. Things are different down here. Here is where I was really jolted. The passengers of the bus began to yell. At me. Yeah, at me because they all had things to do and didn’t want the inconvenience of having to wait to sort it out. Amid the shouts of discontent we determined to stop at a police post a few blocks up. The bus driver then says, “You’ll need to move your car out of traffic.” I knew then what was about to happen. I got off to move the car and he left. For good.

This is the second time a bus has hit us in this car and the second time the driver fled the scene. It’s against the law to flee but not really punishable for the buses unless there are significant injuries. The bus companies have insurance to fix the collateral damage of operating in the city and the police are used to filling out the reports. No one really cares except the person in the tiny smashed piece of green crap.

After I got home, had a cold beverage and some hammock time, and staved off the need to kill something with my bare hands, I thought. I thought back to the irate mob on the bus and wondered how many times I have done the same thing. How many times have I looked a person in need in the eye and thought, “Screw that, I got stuff to do.” I look up and see some chump standing in a pile of car puke on the side of the road and think, “He’s got a phone.”

Each time I find a way to pity myself a little God screws it up by using it to show me what a big douche I am. If I believe this Jesus stuff then I got to live it better. People have to matter. Service has to matter. God’s reputation has to matter.

So, If you’re rolling through Paraguay and get hit by a bus (trust me it WILL happen), then give me a call. I’ll give you a ride to the police station and buy you something cold to drink.

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Ken, AKA The Rambling Barba, is a missionary in Paraguay, where the word for beard is barba. He serves alongside his beautiful wife, and they are raising two fabulous, follower-of-Jesus teen daughters. He blogs at Rambling with the Barba, which is sometimes satirical, sometimes serious, and always entertaining.

You can connect with him on Facebook and Twitter.

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Guest Post: “Whispers on the Road to Damascus”

Posted on March 19, 2012 | 43 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Eva Leppard of The Aspirational Agnostic. I’m excited to share her post about her search for faith because, no matter what our religion or where we are with it, I think a lot of us have doubts and questions, and it’s important to me that this be a place where we can be honest about them and thoughtfully discuss them. Enjoy! –Tamara

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

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Being raised as an insistent, dyed-in-the-wool, no-holds-barred atheist does set one up for some personal angst when one (ok, me) realises that she wants to discover God.

A road to Damascus moment would have been the ideal scenario, naturally, and I could have been loud and proud in my conversion and with my new and absolute understanding of the entire scope of Christian understanding. A nagging, uneasy feeling that I needed to begin a search and I wasn’t going to be able to relax until I’d discovered “something” is a whole lot less easy to explain or indeed to begin a conversation with.

I was raised to tolerate and respect all beliefs. Except Christians. Here, I understood that the best policy was to back away, smiling. Any interaction would instantly cause an infusion of bigotry, a passionate defence of biblical literalism and an instantaneous decrease in IQ points.

So deciding that I wanted to believe in God was a bit of a shock. And, to be brutally honest, a bit of an embarrassment. The first words that I said to the minister when I arrived at church on the first day were, “Hi, I’m Eva and I don’t think that I believe in God.”  He was surprisingly fine with that, and I soon found out that I could continue to say “fuck” and drink wine and know that evolution isn’t a myth (seriously, don’t mess with me on that one), so things were definitely looking up.

The internet is both a blessing and a curse for the aspiring Christian; I have been in equal parts freaked out by the sheer amount of opinionated, bigoted claptrap promulgated in the name of Jesus and thrilled and inspired by the wonderful people seeking to do good in the world, trying to bring the message of Jesus to life. I’ve been able to find myself a neat little comfort zone where I can read about what people are doing and how people are changing the world, and where I can sit on the sofa and go, “Wow, that’s amazing! If I really believed in God, then I would TOTALLY do that.”

Because I haven’t had that road to Damascus moment, have I? I haven’t had that supernatural experience which would force me out of my (very, very small) comfort zone and make me get out there with the poor and the needy. Until that happens, I don’t really have to force myself, do I? If God truly wanted me, he would make it abundantly clear. No room for misinterpretation.

Wouldn’t he?

But then, there’s that little voice. That still, quiet voice that won’t shut. the. heck. up. That won’t let me close the book on this experiment that hasn’t ended in certainty, or proof, or absolute conviction.

The voice of God wouldn’t be a still, quiet little whisper, would it?

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Eva blogs at The Aspirational Agnostic. She is currently spending a disproportionately large time asleep, given that she is pregnant with son number four and also works as a high school teacher. She spends her remaining free time looking for God. He’s being very difficult to pin down.

(Editorial note: I didn’t Americanize Eva’s spellings because I think they’re fantastic.)

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Guest Post: “Grateful”

Posted on March 9, 2012 | 36 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Shanda Sargent of The Upside Down Pastor’s Wife. Shanda is an all-around beautiful woman, always offering encouragement and love. Her raw honesty and humble words here make an exquisite gift that I’m honored to share. –Tamara

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

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Stones.

Stones in the dirt. 

Words in the sand. 

I am the girl on the ground.  Earth dirt is on my forehead, my lips, in my hair.  Bits of grit are in my teeth, and my heart is filled with sludge.  Sludge and darkness.

Stones.

Stones in hands more worthy than mine.

Stones that should be hurled.   Without mercy.

I brace myself.   I protect my head with filthy hands.  I hear disgusted mumbles around me.  I am scandal.   I am stained.   Shame wells up spilling into tears that leave muddy streaks on my cheeks and small puddles beneath my face.   A ragged stick scratches mere words in the earth.

Stones.

Stones fall.

One by one.

HE touches me.  I quake.   Like shards of glass, HIS LIGHT pierces through my deadened soul.  I am undone.  HE removes my scarlet garment.  I am FREE.

Whispers.

Whispers of unworthiness labor to sever me from freedom new.  I scratch and claw my way to protect the remembrance of HIS touch.

I cannot.

My heart is cloudy.   My head is blurred. I am in disbelief.   I am lost.  HE tenderly comes.  HE never tires.

Whispers.

HIS whispers serenade me.

You matter.

You are seen.

You are loved.

You are worthy.

You are mine.

I cling to HIS TRUTH like air.  I believe.  I trust.  I matter.  I am seen.  I am loved.  I am worthy.

I am HIS. 

I am grateful.

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Shanda Sargent belongs to her beloved, Matt, and homeschools their four very cool kids near the foothills of the Rockies.  After almost 20 years of pastoral ministry, their family is “ruthlessly trusting” God in the midst of plan B.

You can follow her blog, The Upside Down Pastor’s Wife, where she rambles her heart’s stirrings once every couple of weeks, follow her on Twitter, or friend/subscribe to her Facebook.

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Guest Post: “An Idiot’s Guide to Driving”

Posted on March 1, 2012 | 47 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Kevin Haggerty of The Isle of Man. Somewhere beneath his unapologetically sarcastic humor is a soft heart, I’m almost totally sure. I hope you’ll enjoy his verbal road rage and let out a little of your own. –Tamara

(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)

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A little while ago, I wrote a post on my blog called “Top Signs You Might Be a Jerk.” It detailed some of the tell-tale determiners that may point to you (or someone you love) being…a jerk.

It was all in good fun, but I touched a few nerves. So I’ve decided to scale it back a tad (which is a unit of measurement somewhere in between a “smidge” and a “wee bit”).

I’m done with calling people jerks. I’m way more mature than I was a few weeks ago. I’ve moved on to pointing the finger at a different segment of society:

Idiots.

They’re everywhere. But the place where they stand out the most is the road. Specifically, behind the wheel.

There’s really no hiding when you’re steering a two-ton weapon of death. If you’re an idiot, people are going to know.

They’ve got guides for everything these days. “Doing your taxes for dummies.” “How to make a bicycle using origami…and a Bic lighter.”

I thought I’d get into the act and write my own. I’m passing it on to you, free of charge.

You’re welcome.

Here it is, without further ado: “An Idiot’s Guide to Driving.”

So you want to be an “Idiot Driver?” Who can blame you? Ignorance is bliss, and if you follow these quick and easy steps, you will be elbow deep in bliss before you know it.

Here they are (in no particular order):

1) Drive under the speed limit as often as possible. It’s been socially acceptable since the invention of the microwave to always go at least the posted speed limit, but that’s not a trend you’ll be following anytime soon. No. You’re the safest driver in the universe. If the sign says “35,” you’ll be doing “30.”

You especially want to adhere to this ideology if you’re on a one-lane road and the cars behind you are unable to get around you. That’s their problem. It’s very important to remember this one fact if you’re going to go any further: “The world revolves around you!”

2) If you ever actually get to a point where the now enraged driver behind you is able to pass, don’t be cool about it. Don’t let them go ahead of you. It’s personal. You need to teach them a lesson and be the pace car for planet Earth. Wait until they get next to you, then, just like Russell Crowe in Gladiator, “unleash Hell!” Floor it. That’s right. Put that accelerator all the way to the floor. They’ll have no other option than to quickly dart back behind you, which is where you want them to be. You’re number one. The top dog. Don’t let them forget that.

Nothing will remind them of this more than when you ease that speed right back down to “30” as soon as their maneuver to “play through” has subsided.

3) You know that rod coming out of the left side of your steering wheel? It’s a lane change or turn indicator. When you move it up or down, it makes your rear blinkers activate, signaling to the people behind you what your future plans are. It helps them plan accordingly and, often, avoid accidents.

Again, not your problem. You turn when you want to. If that means they end up in a ditch or just straight up grinding down their break pads, that’s their deal, not yours.

If you really want to go above and beyond the call of duty, make sure you glare at them incredulously when they honk or drive by looking at you angrily. Signaling is for suckers, and you, my friend, are no sucker.

4) When you get to an intersection with a 4-way stop sign, just sit there and act super confused. It’s too hard to discern which car got to the intersection in which order, so just kinda “feel it out.”

When you do this, you are certain to receive the same kind of responses that came your way after “Step 3.” Don’t let that thwart the gameplan. You gotta dance with who brought you. Stick with what works. We’re committing to this, full throttle. Don’t back out now.

5) Tailgate people, even when you are able to pass them. It doesn’t matter if there’s an available lane. Your job is to make life as miserable as possible for everyone else on the road.

Follow your heart, even if it leads you into the back seat of someone’s Buick.

Summary: At the end of the day, you just gotta “do you.” If that means causing traffic jams, so be it. If that means being the driving force behind a 13-car pile-up, c’est la vie. It’s your tree, we’re all just living in it. We’re lucky you don’t charge us rent.

What else would you add to the guide?

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Kevin Haggerty is a 32-year old husband and expecting father. He runs and writes for a humor blog called TheIsleOfMan.Net. For his full-time job, Kevin is a middle school teacher and basketball coach. He also writes for a mixed martial arts (MMA) blog called MMAMania.com. He’s the oldest of seven children, a continual skeptic and smart people think he’s funny.

You can connect with him at his blog or on Twitter.

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