Driving to the office this morning on the interstate, I looked over to my left. There was a woman in a brand new Mustang, doing 65 miles per hour, with her face up next to her rearview mirror putting on her eyeliner.
I looked away for a couple seconds, and when I looked back she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup.
As a man, I don't scare easily. But she scared me so much that I dropped my electric shaver, which knocked the doughnut out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees against the steering wheel, my cell phone fell away from my ear, landed in the coffee between my legs, splashed and burned Big Jim and the Twins, ruined the damn phone and disconnected an important call.
Damn women drivers.
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