How Would Jesus Drive?
Per this van (parked at Union Square), the son of god would never tailgate. I seriously doubt he would cut anyone off or double park for that matter. In a nutshell, Jesus would never cut it as a cabbie in New York Shitty. He’s too damned considerate. Unless of course, he took he own advice to heart, e.g.; it is much better to give (the finger) than to receive (the finger).
I learned how to drive in Texas. Jesusland. Operating a motor vehicle in Texas is not unlike playing Pole Position on meth: 10-20 miles over the speed limit is the norm. To do otherwise is to invite a confrontation. This is why I will never, EVER drive a car here. The manner in which New Yorkers use (and abuse) automobiles boggles my imagination. They can’t even parallel park for shit— and speaking as a pretty crappy parallel parker— this really means something.
Husband (while strolling along 7th Street in the East Village): Check out this guy, he can’t park for shit…
Me: (craning to look)
Husband: He has such a little car…
Me: and such a huge space to park it in— I bet it’s exactly the same when he fucks that broad sitting in the passenger seat.
The previous piquant observation netted my person dagger eyes from a male bystander. Perhaps my cutting remark hit too close to home? I don’t want to know. I have often been asked why I don’t want to live in Manhattan. I used to think I couldn’t handle Manhattan life but now I believe that Manhattan lifers couldn’t handle me. This is why I live in Greenpoint.
Lest any East Village-going cooters in need of rehabilitating are listening, help is on the way!
This decanter cum urinal/Kegel-sizer is for sale at Astor Wine & Spirits. While your hubbie takes 20 minutes to park his compact car in a 15 foot space you can pump your junk— or while you’re taking 20 minutes to park your compact car (in same said space), he can take a whiz. At $79.99 this item is a bargain at twice the price —and vice.