Que Dia!

Talk about True Blue Cougar Fans!!!

I love taking the older kids to the BYU Football games. Go Cougars!!! You would not recognize the orneryguy at the game. I wear BYU t-shirts, I do all of the cheers (another cougar first down, BYU Cougars, etc.), I stand and sing the fight song and do the fist pumping rah-rah's, and I even stand and do the wave. In short, I am embarrassed to be me at the games, but I love it! It took me 38+ years to get over my self-consciousness enough to actually stand and yell and throw my arms in the air when the wave comes around. I even stand and dance when the band plays, moving my shoulders and shaking my bum. I actually have FUN!!! Dallin and Abby do not even recognize me at the game.

Oh yeah, baby, we sit at mid-field!!!

Except our seats are in the nosebleed section. This was a case of going in with low expectations and being pleasantly surprised. (No jokes about marriage here, please). Anyway, when I bought the tickets I warned the kids that we would be sitting on the next to last row and so they should not get their hopes up about enjoying much of the game. We took the binoculars and I was dreading the fighting we would have over who used them and when. But, when we got to our seats and turned around to watch the players warm up, we were shocked at how well we could see EVERYTHING! We can see the entire field at all times. Even all four corners of the end zone. And plays along the near sideline are not blocked from our view by the players. To make our seats perfect I want to move to the back row for next year. Seriously, the only better seats would be straight across on the top row of the west stands on the 50 yard line, because those seats get shade in the third quarter. But, those tickets cost a lot more. I get mine at a faculty/staff discount that is hard to beat.

A couple of Swinging Monkeys!

The people who sit behind us did not come to the Wyoming game today so we moved one row back to their seats. This picture was taken at the start of the fourth quarter. The diamond-plate box behind the kids is actually a folding platform that opens up to the light tower behind us. It is scary high and there is no way you would get me to walk out on it. Anyway, it is locked and it has chains attached to hold it level when it opened. The kids sat down inside of the chains for a minute when I got the genius idea to put their pads inside the chain. They loved it. Another reason I want those seats right behind us is because when the crowd starts stomping their feet to make it too loud for the opponents to call their plays, I was pounding on that gate with my fist and the noise was deafening to us. Banging on the wall around it just hurts your fist, but the gate itself is like a big bass drum. Again, I only like noise and chaos when I am the one making it. It is just another item on my long list of double standards!

MINI-ME!!!

Yeah, I am becoming a total nerd! A year ago you could not have gotten me to wear a BYU t-shirt, period. But, as a part of an assignment in my Organizational Behavior class, I wore a BYU sweatshirt while watching a game. It had to do with identifying yourself with your organizations culture. Anyway, anyone who knows me knows I am easily embarrassed by just about everything. If it involves having fun and allowing others to see you are enjoying yourself, well, it is just not allowed. Part of the dysfunctional upbringing I had. Ask Steph, she will vouch for the screwed-upedness we all got (he just made up that hyphenated word, didn't he?). Imagine being so messed up that you get embarrassed about what people will think about you for wearing a BYU shirt. Or being embarrassed sitting in a restaurant while people are singing 'Happy Birthday' to someone on the other side of the room. (Special note, we went to Los Hermanos tonight after the game, and I clapped and cheered along during one of those sing-a-longs, are you proud Steph? No, she is probably embarrassed that someone she knows was in a restaurant while singing took place :-)!)

No longer stifled by this weird insecurity, this year, we all got BYU blue before the first game and wear it religiously on game day. It doesn't matter if it is a home game or an away game. It is BYU Blue Baby!!! Before this game I bought BYU hats. Dallin and I got blue ones and Debi, Abby, and Emma got pinks ones. Then today we scored 5 more free shirts. They were handing them out on the way into the stadium. Now we have 5 matching BYU Blue shirts. We are the Nerd Herd (homage to 'Chuck', if you have seen it on NBC). It gets even worse, so watch out for the next paragraph!

You have been warned, so, proceed with caution. Tonight, at my insistence, all 5 members of the Crazy Lee family wore their BYU Blue shirts, and their hats, while we went to Los Hermanos and the grocery store. I am losing it. The mere thought of two of the five of us even dressing similarly used to be enough to send me into a tizzy. But tonight, I was the instigator of this unseemly behavior. Later on I noticed that Dallin and I were looking very similar and started calling him Mini-Me as we were walking around. I asked Debi to take the pictures. (Again, I usually run away from cameras). Help me, I am losing my orneriness!

I need to find something to complain about quickly before the orneryguy becomes mrhappy.

Grr, curse, grumble, :-(, etc !

Get Ready to Vote and Be Poked

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The Sad Man Behind Blue Eyes

What a great song by The Who!!! Being a sad man, and having blue eyes, I have always identified with this song. Whenever I start to have a "pity party", or start a "poor me story", Debi always taunts me with, "Oh, is it our little sad man behind blue eyes?"

Well, yes, yes it is. I have been brutalized on all fronts for my unintentionally being such an 80's icon. OUCH!!! Why didn't anyone organize an intervention. I obviously need help and support, not laughing and ridicule. Perhaps a makeover on Oprah would help. I hear she is a "miracle worker." So here's the deal. I am asking you to answer a few questions for me.

1. Please list as many things about me that scream "80's dude" that you can think of. Be specific. Blanket statements such as "everything" may be accurate, but they don't give me much to work with. Also, things such as "pants, shirts, hair, etc." need to be more specific. Exactly what is "wrong" with them. Note: I no longer own any Guess Jeans :(


2. Is there any hope for me? If the answer is no, you are probably right, and you are now done. If however, you are foolishly optimistic, and you answer yes, please continue.


3. Please, please, please offer suggestions. What can be done to bring me at least to the 90's, or even make me Y2K compliant. I am aware that actually reaching 2008 is impossible, but please help me to not be "that guy" who everyone sees and automatically thinks "time-warp."

Debi and Abby looked up 80's fashion websites and kept laughing at me. It was sad, so of course I pouted, which made them laugh harder. Poor me, the sad man behind blue eyes.

Please help me to not be "The Hoff" (see picture above)!!!

Simple Man

I saw this poster and I want to know if it is true. Please answer yes or no in the comment section and have a nice day. Also, if I am a "simple kind of man" does that make me a simpleton?

Anyway, Lynyrd Skynyrd rocks and you should really listen to that first song on my playlist. In fact, if you want to have a classic rock kind of day you should listen to the entire list. You can open a new browser window and keep on surfing while you listen. The playlist is very incomplete, and a little sporadic. I mean Barry Manilow? Hello? That was definitely for Debi (and I am a closet Fanilow).

Back to the simpleton question. My life was certainly simpler before school started for me on 9/2. For the record, I am in my second year of a three year master's program at BYU. I will be earning a Master's of Public Administration, which means if I play my cards right I can be like the head garbage man dude. Here is a simple way of explaining my upcoming degree, think MBA (Master's of Business Administration) designed for the not-for-profit sector. We are both part of BYU's Marriott School of Management and have similar courses and professors. The MBA focuses on for profit enterprises. The MPA focuses on government, universities, churches, charities, etc. Some examples include working in the administration of any government office, the LDS Church, BYU, the Red Cross, IHC, etc.

Wow that was boring! So here's the deal, I would like to either move into the administration at BYU or possibly work for the Church in a sector of the welfare division. I have visited Welfare Square a few times and have felt that I need to be involved in improving the lives of others(That's right, the orneryguy has actually been touched by the spirit). We have two guys in our program who work for LDS Philanthropies raising money for various projects such as providing wheelchairs to the handicapped and building wells for impoverished communitites. I want to get involved in something like that. Debi and I want to serve multiple missions and I want my work to prepare me for that while it provides for my family.

I apologize for the serious tone of this post. It was truly not intended. In fact, if this nonsense keeps up the blog may have to be cancelled.

So my accounting professor is like the world's smartest guy. Seriously, he has three PhD's, the last one in Artificial Intelligence from Carnegie-Mellon. He created an accounting teaching computer program that nearly ruined my sanity. It uses artificial intelligence to track what you are doing and predict mistakes you may make and questions you may have. It gives hints and warnings when you ask for them and it is spooky. If you are unsure of what to do, rather than clicking help and entering a word or phrase, you simply hit help and it answers the exact question in your head. I am afraid to think "do you know what I am thinking?" and hit the help key because I know the answer will come back "yes, and you better repent!" Anyway, the program is great, and I love using it, but it was the install that was terrible. My computer kept rejecting the program. Our professors son is a long-titled computer genious (read: geek) who comes to each of his fathers classes on the first day of school to help anyone who is having problems installing the program. He helped everyone who had problems but me. He spent over an hour and determined that I would have to wipe out my hard drive, re-install all programs, and lose anything that wasn't saved off-site. So, I got to rebuild my computer the first week of school. Nothing like a little added pressure.

This post is already too long and tragically terrible. So here's the deal, (the deal? Is this guy a used car salesman or what?) if you would like another sardonically delicious attack on something like people who chew with their mouths open and kick the back of my seat in the movie theater, stupid people, (you know who they are, and so do I, so why don't they know who they are) or whether the comma should be after the phrase or the comment in the parentheses after the phrase, (I am pretty sure I have screwed that up. Twelve years earning an English degree shot to ....) let me know. I crave comments. Especially sardonic ones.

Oh yeah, if you are all good little commenter's, I will tell you the story about Edward Paul Horwinski and the Great Pizza Mystery or possibly the one about how Johnny Got Hit in the Head by a Flying Frozen Turkey. Make a request!

Oh, and did I see Ryan McQuivey at the BYU/UCLA game? Go COUGARS!!!

Warning: This Post Is Lame (I'm Learning to Post Pictures)

As Debi and I were leaving from a wonderful short weekend stay at Johnson's Mill in Midway, I got a hold of her digital camera and starting taking pictures. I normally don't go for those new-fangled gadgets. Anything more technical than a Sony Walkman (circa 1982, cassette version) is beyond me. But, I was having fun. Snap, snap, snap and no paying for film development. I decided I wanted one for myself.

I did fine installing the Kodak EasyShare Program on my computer and took some pictures only a guy would take. You know, the first was my Coke from Taco Time. Then pictures of my Mustang, Truck, Motorcycles, the fence we built this summer, etc. Then I decided to get adventurous and try the video feature. So I have a short clip of the inside of the door and the dashboard of my Mustang while I start it and listen to the exhaust (with the door open so we can all hear the ringing of the door open bell, of course). Yeah, I am pretty lame. But, when you've got a K&N Performance Intake, Bassani headers, and a 3" MagnaFlow exhaust with Cat-Back headers installed on a 5.0 HO Ford V-8 engine, you are pretty lame, and obviously living in the past. You can take a flashback with me and have a listen here.

Speaking of living in the past, have you seen my straight-leg, faded blue jeans. Debi is pretty sure I never left 1988. She teased me just today about my pants. And my hair. And my shirt. And my music. Oh yeah, and about being ornery. She finds it hard being the unfortunate soul stuck with me. I mean, yeah sure, she likes the idea of me, but not the actual practise. I guess I am like one of those fancy trucks you see on the road with the awful, multi-color, paint jobs and murals on the tail-gate. Whoever thought it up and paid the ridiculous amount of money to have it done envisioned a true work of art in their mind. But when the work is done it just looks stupid. That's me, Debi's stupid looking truck (painted in the 80's obviously). If only it weren't against BYU standards I could grow an awesome mullet and wear muscle shirts (these of course present a problem with the whole garment thing). Wow, religion is standing in the way of me living out my white trash fantasy (and looking like my dad). Yeah, I'm the guy Debi wanted to marry. What was she thinking? My mom and Stephanie tried to tell her to run far, far away, but she didn't listen. She regrets it now. She's told me so. Lot's of times. Oh well, maybe one day I'll be the guy she wanted me to be when we got married. But until then I've just got LOTS OF POTENTIAL. (And a wardrobe, hair-cut, car, and music from the 80's).

Oh yeah, back to the camera. Here are some photos that only a guy would post. Especially a guy who lives in a trailer, drinks generic beer, and whistles through his tooth. I am that classy guy :)

Oh yeah, that Mustang was pretty sweet my senior year of high school. Ironically, I hated those Mustangs then and I hate them now. Back then I liked the Camaros a lot better. Still do. The Mustangs I like are 1964-1967 Fast Backs and the newest ones after the restyling done in 2005. Oh well, the price was right, it was a low-mile, original owner model. And it is fast. Stock, the 87 GT's did over 148 MPH. This one has had some work done and will go faster than I will ever find out. Now, if I had this car back in 87, I would have found out how fast it would go and probably not be here today.

Why Is Everybody Always Picking On Me?

What an easy target I am. Stephanie is always making fun of my mongoloid sized noggin. I can't help the fact that I lost in the genetic lottery and have such an over sized head. Not only does she make fun, she does it in ALL CAPS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Argh!

Then, while defenselessly enjoying my son's pack meeting I get ambushed by Debi and Kevin. It is a pretty low thing to purposefully, and with the obvious intent to inflict emotional trauma and embarrassment, dress in the same outfit as someone else and then not have the decency to stay far away from them and avoid eye contact. If Debi has on anything that remotely resembles what I have on, I immediately change. Seriously, I am not one of the Bobsey twins. One awful Sunday the kids all wore yellow shirts, blouses, or dresses. They easily convinced Debi to wear a yellow blouse to match them. Then, the hungry wolf pack surrounded the weakest among them and begged me to wear a yellow shirt to church so we could all match. I was horrified by the thought and refused. But, even the crustiness of my heart can be softened by Emma's big eyes asking me "please Daddy, please." So I caved. That's right, when it comes to my kids I am a big caveman. They ask, I say no, they say "pleeeease" with sad eyes, and I cave in to their demands. Yeah, anyway, church sucks when the whole family wears the same color because EVERYONE made a HUGE DEAL about it everywhere. The bishopric was laughing on the stand. People I had never talked to (most of the ward, like Stephanie, I am the ward recluse) felt compelled to tell me how cute it was and what a great dad I was for playing along. During priesthood opening exercises the bishop remarked he was embarrassed that he was not aware it was YELLOW SHIRT SUNDAY and asked Brother Lee to be sure and call all of the priesthood next week before church and let them know what color we would all be wearing. Yeah, that Sunday sucked, almost as much as the one when I carried Nikki, the American Girl doll and sat with her on my lap through Sunday School and Priesthood because Emma insisted Nikki could not be left in the truck during church and that she would cry if I did not hold her. You can be sure the kind, sympathetic brethren of the priesthood let that one slide by unnoticed. Even the oldest and sleepiest of the high priests took their shots that Sunday.

Anyway, as this approaches the longest, most boring, text filled blog in history (seriously, does this guy not have a camera, know how to post pictures, or add cute polka-dots and frilly things to his blog), I find out the ORNERYGUY has been tagged by "Sweet Melissa" (a great song and even greater cousin) unless he is "too ornery" to play. GROWL, CURSE, SPIT AND VENOM, ETC. I am the meanest, orneriest, rottenest, big-headed beast to ever walk the earth and all should fear me and tremble in my presence. But, truly fearsome as I truly am, when it comes to family, friends, strangers, even people I loathe and despise, I quickly become just another caveman.

So here it goes, a tagging of the most boring person to ever sleep through World History and wake up during a South American history class (being taught in Spanish) and go back to sleep until that class was over before exiting the classroom.

A - Attached or Single? Oh, so attached (is he talking about "the old ball and chain"?)

B - Best Friend(s)? Eric. Then of course Abby, Dallin, and Emma. And I think there is someone else, but the name isn't coming to me. SB, or something like that.

C - Cake or Pie? I agree with Melissa on this one. Aunt Janet's pies are beyond heavenly. I feel sorry for anyone who has never tasted one, but not sorry enough to share with them. Seriously, pity has it's limits. And pity ain't gettin' anyone no pie. No way, no how, and no caveman, neither.

D - Day of Choice? Any day Dallin and I can spend a few hours at the ballpark working on baseball. He is really helping me get better. With a lot more hard work I might be good enough to play on his little league team next year. Not start or anything, but maybe play for an inning every fifth or sixth game.

E - Essential Item? Coke. That one girl, SB or something like that, has tried to guilt me out of drinking my beloved Coke. Seriously, it is sweet ambrosia, and she refuses to bring it home when she goes to buy groceries. I think she delights in my suffering. She claims some BS story about kidney damage or something like that. Like anyone is going to believe that such a sweet nectar that also eats the rust off of nails is going to hurt anyone's vital organs.

F - Favorite Color? Definitely purple. I don't think I own anything that is purple, nor would I ever paint anything purple, nor do I even really like the appearance of the color purple, but, it is definitely the best tasting of all of Mr. Crayolas delectable delights.

G - Gummy bears or worms? This one is so easy. My all time favorite song to sing (off-key and with a truly sorrowful case of the poor-me's) goes something like this: "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm going to the garden to eat WORMS!!!!!" (Caps, exclamation marks, and an incorrect use of the colon? This guy is a total loser.)

H - Holiday of choice? This is a toss-up. I love Christmas. Not the carols being played even before Halloween, the shopping, the sappy movies, and all of the commercial crap (colons and crap, this guy is total class). For me it is celebrating Christmas with my family. This past one we spent in Disneyland was wonderful beyond my highest hopes. Now, to complete the toss-up, it is nearly impossible to beat Easter in St. George, at Green Valley, any year in the 1980's. Unless it is Arbor Day, the Fourth, the 24th, or Thanksgiving at the cabin. Oh yeah, and the 23rd at Grandma's. Really, just spending one more hour sitting with Grandma Dallin and listening to her talk and laugh, watch her holding a baby, and feeling her sweet hug would top all holidays that ever were, are, or will ever be. I miss her much more, and much differently than I ever expected to.

I - Indulgence? My family, definitely. I love doing everything I can for them and my greatest regrets are the things I do not have the time or the means to give them. There is nothing good enough for them, and unfortunately, they were stuck with this ornery old fun-hater.

J - January or July? Definitely July. No school, lots of baseball, and rib-eye steak on the grill. Now, if we could just get July to change weather with early October, then we would have a great month.

K - Kids? They are kind of stringy and chewy. Mine especially are way too skinny for eating but they sure are fun to be around. I wish I could slow time WAY DOWN and spend a long time in the present with Abby (12), Dallin (8), and Princess Emma (4). Check out the Rush song "Time Stand Still" with Aimee Mann of 'Til Tuesday adding her vocals. It is on the playlist.

L - Life isn't complete without? This little girl I know, Debi. Fortunately, she is the anti-Scott. She is kind and sweet, good at everything, and people like her. Like I said, she is the anti-Scott.

M - Marriage date? 7 September, 1994. And after 14 years of marriage I have learned enough to refrain from any snide comment about that. It was truly the most amazing day of my life and one I do not, and never will, deserve. Thank you Debi, for taking pity one me.

N - Number of brothers and sisters? 1 sister and 2 brothers. They are for sale, if anyone is interested. I've slashed the price on the brothers, both for a bum-nickel. But the sister, she's ........................priceless! :) (is that a smile?)

O - Oranges or apples? Apples, definitely. I am an apples guy. Ask Debi, she will tell you. She slices them and I eats them. I'm too lazy to slice them myself. But, then again, when Grandpa Dallin peels oranges I eats them too. Again, the lazy thing. But if anyone is up and would like to bring me a peeled orange, a sliced apple, another plate of dinner, a Coke.........., please feel free.

P - Phobias? Oh yeah, I got phobias baby! I'd tell you what they are but that would jinx me and they would all come true. Oh crap, (seriously, this guy is a potty mouth) I think that may have jinxed me, but now I'm un-jinxed, scrud, now I'm jixed again, argh! Has anyone seen MONK? Debi hopes and prays that one day I will be as highly-functioning and self-sufficient as the amazing Mr. Monk.

Q - Quote? "I think it needs more cowbell"-SNL skit devoted to the loss of a member of Blue Oyster Cult and referencing the cow-bell being played in their ode to suicide "Don't Fear the Reaper." I believe his name was Gene Frankel or something like that. I am embarrassed that I can't remember that bit of trivia, but I am also too lazy to look it up. Go ahead and Google it yourself. This much I do remember, he was not the lead singer of the band, but he did sing the lead vocals for a few songs. I think "Godzilla" was one. If you have a moment listen to that song. I think it is on my playlist. Anyway, Gene was a guitarist extraordinaire. Find some old BOC songs and "fritter away" (Pink Floyd reference) some time relishing in the genius that was Gene.

R - Reason to smile? Knowing I have something truly devious planned. Fear me now, mere mortals, for I am orneryguy! :)

S - Season of choice? "It's the time and the season for loving"- The Zombies. Check out where the "Who's your daddy?" reference came from. If anyone can cite an earlier pop-culture reference of "Who's your daddy?" than this classic song by the Zombies let me know in the comments section. I will then destroy you, claim to have found the reference myself, and use this kernal of knowledge to rule the world . I am smiling at the diabolical genius of my devious plan. :)

T - Tag 3 people. This is difficult since nobody reads my blog, or leaves me comments, or loves me, or cares that I am pouting, or that I am about to go out into the garden and eat worms. (Wow, this guy is a sad-sack) That, and half of the people who "pity-read" my blogging drivel have already been tagged. Therefore, with great "Pomp and Circumstance" (seriously, that is the title of the song they play when the president of the United States is introduced? How weird! Also, the dork driving this blog should know that works of art, songs, book titles, etc., should be italicized, not put in quotation marks.) As I was saying, with great Pomp ande Circumstance, I hereby request that the wise, noble, and honorable Stephanie (Aunt Meanie) and the most delightful, wonderfully beautiful, true love of my life Debi (SB) please considered themselves tagged and respond to this invitation forthwith and in due haste. For those of you who have taken off your shoes and socks to help with the counting are so painfully aware, that is only two people. Again, I am weeping in shame over the lack of love my blog is receiving, so if you have ever stumbled across this page and been so embarrassed you even saw it, please, please leave a comment this time and consider yourself tagged. (Wow, that guy has no shame, begging for comments like they were signs of approval. Maybe he should change his name from the Orneryguy to Mr. Self-Esteem. Excuse me, the dripping drops of sardonicism have left a puddle on my keyboard and I must clean up).

U - Unknown facts about me? I wish I could tap-dance. Seriously, Sammy Davis Jr. is THE MAN! And what about Mr. Bojangles. First of all, the song by the same title, by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, always chokes me up. Especially the part about him grieving the death of his dog twenty years later. But, getting beyond that, watching old clips of him, Sammy, Gregory Hines, etc. really make me wish I could tap dance. I am not so much for the white guys. I mean Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly are great and I have seen Michael Flatley (sp?) the "Riverdance" dude and was impressed, but it is the great soul, feel, emotion, sorrow, showmanship, and truly divine grace of movement of the black men that gets me. (Is any of that true? Is there any way of knowing?)

V - Vegetable? Mashed potatoes with Grandma's gravy. There is no food as good, and there will never be.

W - Worst Habit? Debi will say it is generally being an "Aspirin". Say it out loud and slowly, you will get the drift. If you don't, let me tell you a cute little exchange I have with Emma often. I ask her who each person in our family is and she responds, "Dallin is our Sunshine, Abby is our Monkey Butt, Mommy is our Queen, Emma is our Princess, and you are the DADDY DONKEY). That's right, I'm an aspirin. :)

X - X-ray or Ultrasound? Huh?

Y - Your favorite food? Thanksgiving at the cabin again with the potatoes and GRAVY and Aunt Janet's pie. Yum. For regular days I love Rib-Eye steaks.

Z - Zodiac sign? I am a Gemini. No I'm not.

A Special Place

There is a special place in hades (Debi will have a melt-down if I use any profanities or obscenities, but I'm sure you know where hades is, right? It is a part of H-E-double hockey sticks). Anyway, there truly is a special place in hades for people who drive under the speed limit in the carpool lane.



I just don't understand what compels these morons to drive 55 mph in the carpool lane. There is already a special lane reserved for these people. It is on the far right side and it is called "the slow lane". I am guessing these special people are so "slow" they are not even aware of how "slow" they are.


Here are a few tips to help you determine if you are one of these slow people who will be spending eternity searching for ice water:

1. Look at your speedometer. If you are not going at least 10 mph over the maximum posted speed limit, you better buy some asbestos underwear.


2. Look out of your front windshield. If the only cars in front of you are ones that recently swerved in front of you, nearly clipping your bumper, while the driver honked, glared, and gave you the Italian Salute, I hope you like BBQ.


3. Look in the rear-view mirror. If however, you are like most of the morons driving slow in the carpool lane, you don't even know what or where the rear-view mirror is. Consult your owners manual. After finding the mirror if you see a long stream of cars all driving bumper to bumper behind you and there is only clear sailing ahead of you, please pull over, get out of your car, and repeatedly slam the drivers door shut on your head.


4. If you find you are one of these (choice adjective) slow drivers, please exit the carpool lane immediately. Cross the double white lines now. Do not wait for the dashed lines to appear. If you get a ticket because you crossed the double white lines while leaving the carpool lane because you have realized you are of the "special people", I will gladly pay the fine for you. So long as you swear to never leave the far right lane again, that is.

In conclusion, though I am normally a very tolerant person (kind, forgiving, understanding, slow to anger and all of that), I do draw the line at driving slow in the improperly named carpool lane (it should be named the ultra-high speed passing lane and be restricted for drivers who are comfortable driving at least 20 mph over the speed limit.) I feel it is my duty to warn those who violate the very laws of nature and drive slow in the carpool lane of their impending doom, and to call them to repentance. Those who insist on violating the true and intended purpose of the carpool lane will be expediently cast down to "hello operator," where they will be forced to listen to __________________________ for eternity. Have a nice day :)

(If you read this post, I request you make a comment, and also that you fill in the blank with whatever you find contemptible to listen to. It may be a specific song, artist, genre, high-council speaker, me, or anything else you would personally feel tortured if you had to listen to it for an eternity.)