Friday, May 27, 2005

Dear Men of Phoenix Who Are Defined by Their Vehicles,

Just because you've pulled up next to me at a stop light and I am driving a BMW does not mean that I'm going to drag race with you. It's my husband's car and I have no intention of racing.

Seriously.

Stop revving your engine.

I'm not racing.

Look, the light is turning green, but I'm not going to floor it.

And, come on, think about it, is your Ford Contour really going to be any match for me?

Ford.

Contour.

Do you have to wind it up at night?

Okay, fine, just this once, I'm going to lightly depress the gas pedal in my high heeled boots and zoom past your overcompensating ass.

There, do you feel better now? You just got owned by a girl.

Now go home and I don't want to talk about this again, okay?

Thanks,

Cate

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