Tag Archives: humor

Dear Thong: A Break-up Letter

Posted on June 4, 2012 | 68 Comments

Dear Thong,

I think we both know this has been a long time coming. I tried to love you; I really did. But– and I know this is harsh– I really don’t even like you at all. And it’s not me; it’s you.

I tried for years to pretend things were okay with us– I went about my business, usually with other undergarments, and you turned a blind eye, keeping to yourself in the back of the underwear drawer. But we were never really okay, were we?

Sure, I’d turn to you when I felt like the occasion really called for it– you made me think I needed you once in a while. You made promises that you could never keep, and I kept trying to believe them because I wanted them to be true. But only a fool keeps believing what she’s seen disproved, and I’m nobody’s fool. Not anymore.

You held the shame of Visible Panty Line over my head, but you failed to mention that you show lines of your own, didn’t you? And these,  much more egregious in their tell-tale signs than a modest panty line because they don’t just show that I’m wearing underwear– they show exactly where I’m not. You thought you had me captive with your threats of VPL, but you underestimated me: The surest way to not show panty lines is to not have any at all.

How you like them apples?

That’s right– if I can’t go with a cute, butt-covering pair of undies, then I’m going commando. I just don’t need you anymore. I don’t need to worry about your popping mortifying whale tails at the most inopportune times (you never did care about being decent in public, did you?), and I certainly don’t need your massive discomfort.

Oh, I know what the other girls have said. I’ve heard all their declarations of how comfy you are and how they just looooove you and how they could never go back to anything else. I’m not here to judge– their underwear choice is between them and their jeans. But I don’t buy that “comfort” bullshit, not for a minute. Maybe you make them feel sexy. Maybe they’ve bought your insidious VPL lie. Maybe they just looooove the feel of a perpetual fucking wedgie. I don’t care– they can have you.

I am done.

I need underwear that make me feel like an attractive woman, not a strung-up marionette. I need underwear that are there for me in a very real way– in a way you could never be, never even wanted to be. I need underwear that will cover my ass, not ride it.

So this is it for us– we’re over. You can leave, and take that hussy of a push-up bra you like to cozy up with in the back of the drawer with you on your way out.

You are never getting in my pants again.

-Me

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Tamára’s To-Do List (a book update & a guest post!)

Posted on May 29, 2012 | 18 Comments

First, a quick update:

I am finally finished with the difficult, months-long process of selecting the essays that will best shape What a Woman is Worth into the book I hope it will be– one that will both open people’s eyes to so many ways women are caused to disbelieve their own worth and offer inspiring messages of restoration and affirmation.

We had an incredible turn-out, and in order to make the book a manageable size, I was only able to accept less than half of the submissions. The thirty essays that will comprise the book come from a wide range of authors– from gifted, veteran writers to women who wouldn’t call themselves writers at all but who simply had stories that needed sharing.

So after just a very quick breath and a little celebratory fist pump, the editing phase of my job began. I’ll continue to be busy working with the authors over the next several weeks to get their essays into their very best form, and I’ll also be writing the section introductions to weave this whole project together.

And that doesn’t leave me with a whole lot of time for much else. So, as they have for several months, guest posts will be essential to keeping this show running for a bit longer. I hope you’ll continue to be generous with your comments and clicks for the people who are kind enough to fill in for me here.

And now, for some fun:

My friend Tyler Tarver made my Killer Tribes video for me, and, because there’s no end to his generosity or wit, he also made me one of his trademark to-do lists, personalized just for my busy life. Sort of.

Continue reading →

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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: “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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Andrew Rider: Aspiring Hulk, Fictitious Model, Funny Man

Posted on April 2, 2012 | 14 Comments

I’m back from an amazing, exhausting, enriching time at the Killer Tribes Conference, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it– but I think first I need a couple days to regroup the brain cells that I scattered during my week of anxiety attacks, sleep loss, and general ridiculousness. (And all the fuss really was ridiculous. It turns out I actually can string together a phrase without the aid of a keyboard.)

So, instead of a post, I’m going to give you this video from Andrew Rider to enjoy. Andrew won the “I promote your blog, website, or special project” gift in TOL’s 12 Gifts of Christmas giveaway, and luckily for me, Andrew really has something worth sharing. He’s funny and irreverent, and, as evidenced by his discussion of Christian “porn,” he does a great job of pushing the line without going over it.

This video is his performance at the finals for the Charleston Stand-Up Competition. (You may have to turn up your volume to hear him over the fits of laughter he provokes.)

What was your favorite part of Andrew’s act? I can’t decide between the Christian “porn” and the Apostle Peter doll.

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Andrew has been performing stand-up comedy for just over two years and recently made it to the finals for the Charleston Stand-Up Competition where people from all over the southeast competed.  His influences are Steven Wright, Emo Phillips, Mike Birbiglia, Paul F. Tompkins and Mitch Hedburg.  While he is a Christian, he has no problem poking fun at the commercialism that tends to get tacked onto Christianity, and he also enjoys talking about comic books.

You can connect with  him on Twitter.

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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: “You Don’t Know”

Posted on March 12, 2012 | 29 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Sonny Lemmons of Looking Through the Windshield. Thoughtful and sometimes sensitive, hilarious and intermittently inappropriate, Sonny feels like a long-lost brother to me. I think you’ll enjoy his story, even if you don’t envy it. ;) –Tamara

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

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It all starts when the day begins at 4:15 AM when a fussy toddler, who fought going to sleep the night before, decides that waking up and complaining about the lack of orange juice and Play-Doh in his room makes complete and utter sense. It continues when after 45 minutes, he falls back asleep, and you pass out from sheer exhaustion on his floor. It continues when an hour later, your back a tangle of knots and tension, you both wake up because he has managed to apparently empty five days’ worth of liquid into one overnight diaper, soaking both himself and his bed.

It continues when your spouse, who somehow managed to sleep through the crying, the stripping of the covers, and the toddler’s subsequent streaking through the house, wakes up an hour and a half later and asks if the coffee is ready yet. You already feel like you’ve had a full day’s worth of stress compacted into a handful of hours, and the look of incredulity in your eyes that you shoot as an icy response to an honest question speaks volumes about the attitude of your heart at the moment:

“You don’t know the day I’ve had.”

After the Great Cheerio Debacle of 2012 at the dining table, and after wrestling the aforementioned toddler (who, like the Hulk, apparently gets stronger the angrier he gets) into clothes which are questionably matchable, you take a few moments to yourself by taking a much-needed hot shower. It continues when the water temperature starts to become more and more tepid due to the dishwasher running at the same time as your shower. It continues when you step out of the shower only to realize you failed to grab a towel before heading into the bathroom. As you begin to get dressed, it continues as you realize you only have enough deodorant for one armpit.

It continues when, after replacing the socks and shoes your overly-zealous toddler had removed and hidden are discovered and back on his feet, you consider using a taser on him to get him into the damn car to go to the grocery store to restock the depleted pantry. It continues when the other patrons at this store look judgmentally on your parenting abilities because your child, based on his demeanor in the store, is apparently auditioning for a role in Where the Wild Things Are. It continues when the elderly woman behind you in the checkout line audibly huffs when it takes you an extra nine seconds to swipe your debit card because you’re busy trying to keep your child from sustaining a concussion after trying to dive out of the cart. The only repose you can manage, after squeezing your eyes shut and clenching a fist for a moment, is that you glower at her with as much disdain in your tired face as you can muster, and think:

“You don’t know the day I’ve had.”

It continues when your dog barks during the toddler’s afternoon nap, waking him up, cutting his nap time from the usual hour and a half down to 45 minutes.

It continues when you load the washing machine, only to discover that thanks to the load you’d washed this morning, you’re now out of detergent.

It continues when you are notified via email that the writing project you had invested months of energy and time in was being cancelled, but “thanks for your work anyway.”

It continues when you check your mail to discover an equal amount of bills and junk mail fliers.

It continues when the afternoon snack you prepare, which was “awesome” just two days ago, is now clearly a personal affront to the dignity of the toddler who refuses to touch it.

It continues when you fight back tears of frustration and exhaustion.

“You don’t know the day I’ve had.”

And yet.

It shifts when, on your way to the park to give your kid a chance to expend some energy and wear him the hell out so he’ll sleep tonight, you stop in at the local coffee shop. It shifts when a total stranger, for whatever reason, buys your drink for you. It shifts when you allow one act of random kindness to transpose in your heart and mind the thought which you have been allowing to rule over you:

“You don’t know the day I’ve had” becomes “You don’t know the day I’ve had.”

They might not have known.

But someone did. And He knew that free coffee might have just been enough. For you.

Just enough to get you to remember: The day ain’t over yet.

So get over yourself, get over your circumstances, and get on with the day you have ahead of you.

And don’t tell your wife about the taser idea.

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Sonny Lemmons (yes, that IS his real name) writes stuff. Stuff about life, faith, and the odd pop culture reference. Sometimes people read it– like THE MYTH OF MR. MOM from Portmanteau Press– but most of the time it’s like a strange form of solitary therapy.

He left a 13-year career in Higher Education Administration to be a full-time stay-at-home dad three years ago, and he considers it his best career move yet. If he’s not drinking coffee or discussing microbrews, he’s probably goofing around with his son, Malakai, or intentionally embarrassing his wife, Ashley.

You can follow his blog, Looking Through the Windshield, or connect with him on Twitter.

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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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