NOtorcycles

So, I had a blog written tonight. It was poignant and important and serious. I'm holding off on it, though, because I've been told it's, like, TOO AWESOME. Stay tuned, though. It'll come and your world will be rocked...trust that.

In the meantime, I'd like to discuss the current bane of my existence.

Motorcycles.

Listen, I'm sure they're wonderful and freeing and all kinds of crap. However, it is just, like, SUPER important for me to tell everyone that motorcycles are the worst things ever. They are. THE. WORST. THINGS. EVER.

Now, as a caveat, I'll say that I'm super obsessed with the show Sons of Anarchy, which is a super amazing show about motorcycle gangs. I totally respect the lifestyle and power of a good ol' fashioned motorcycle gang. Plus, hey...Charlie Hunnum is downright sexy with greasy, long hair.

But unless you have the appropriate cuts, turn off that godforsaken noise factory. It's VERY ANNOYING. That throttle of power you feel between your legs on a ride is really just pissing off everyone around you.

It started right as I was starting to enjoy the sunlight pouring in through the skylight in my room. I thought, "YAY! It's spring! I mean, it's way too bright and I'm going to burrow back down into my comforter, but yay! Spring!" As soon as I started getting used to the gentle wake-up call from Mother Nature, though, the "ruhhhnnnn ruhhhhnnn ruhhhn" started.

Our neighbor has a motorcycle. The entire effing world knows that he has a motorcycle. At about 6:15 in the morning (5 minutes before my alarm goes off) he likes to start it and let it just idle for 100 or so minutes while he pats himself on the back. Then it dies and he has to restart it, re-idle it, re-make everyone hate him. It's a vicious, horribly loud cycle.

So for the past few weeks, this jerkface has been starting his motorcycle every morning. I'm usually awoken from a sound sleep and spend 10 minutes trying to turn off whatever nuclear bomb alarm has gone off before realizing it's Motorcycle Guy. I've thought so many times about what I would do if I ever saw him in his stupid driveway on his stupid bike.

Today, it happened.

Motorcycle guy must have been late to his job at the World's Most Annoying Person On the Planet factory because I was walking out to my car when his shenanigans started. I watched the whole thing.

He started his Fart Machine. I watched as he wrapped on his super stupid American flag bandana and tied his 12 grey hairs back into a ponytail. (Hey, COOL! No helmet! #notcool #dumbestpersonever)

Ruhhhnnnn ruhhhhnnn ruhhhn...

He pulled out a cigarette, fumbled around for a lighter for 12 minutes, and lit it. Then the bike died. Sweet, sweet silence. So, he started it again, revved the engine, and then let it idle for another 16 years. Puffing away. Waiting for God knows what. Then, finally, MERCIFULLY, he kicked up the kickstand and started to walk his stupid bike out of his driveway.

That's when he saw me.

I was standing there, in my super cute work outfit, Kate Spade work bag, and middle fingers both aggressively extended in his general direction. I can't say for certain that he saw me. But I had waited for the entire process, mouth agape, waiting for him to look at me to see my very passive-aggressive complaint. I was a statue. I wanted him to know that YES, we could alllllll hear his stupid loud bike. And YES, we are alllllll very impressed by his rebellious nature. But we allllllll hate every single thing about him.

Ruhhhnnnn ruhhhhnnn ruhhhn...

Sorry if you have a motorcycle. Sorry that you can't figure out a way to put a muffler on that piece of crap noise box you think is SO COOL. Unless you are part of a legit gang or live 100 miles away from the nearest hearing-capable person, everyone hates you.

It's important for people to know this. When a person starts a loud motorcycle, people don't think "Hey, wow. What a cool person with a reckless attitude towards convention and fearless attitude towards life." No. People think "OMG, we have to set that person's garage on fire."