All the way to Dallas comes the constant reinforcement that these roads would be so much better with robots driving the cars. Robots don't rat race, change lanes for no apparent reason, or suddenly swerve across multiple lanes because the driver doesn't want to miss the exit.
Driving with robots would be no problem since the best driving for me when I simply want to knock off the miles is to tuck in behind a truck convoy and match speeds. I've driven thousands of event-free miles that way.
The traffic is just stupid but there will be some snark from me when Yevette gets to backseat driving, "Well, gee, Yevette. Thanks for that as, you know, I wasn't watching the road and you just saved us."
Snark, snark, snark.
Note: nothing stays snarky here for long and that goes both ways since she was pissed later since I said I would go to a store to get some soda while she waited for her popcorn but I did not realize she had not heard me. She then tried to find me and you know that couldn't have gone well.
Like I say, nothing stays snarky for long here.
But we never forget the reverence for the Lion of Judah.
The hat had to happen since hats usually give me a headache if they're at all tight but this one isn't. The price was right since no-one will stroke you inside VA. The girl said it's a rasta hat and I said, sure, the Lion of Judah. She said, he knows. She was impressed that I knew and I was impressed that she did so everything is entirely groovy in the World of Rasta.
The appointment was with Urology and no man ever wants to go there since whatever they will do with your whanger is almost certainly something you will probably hate. This isn't about that since the doctor had to check out my bits before the procedure can be scheduled. As he was doing the once over, he looked at a scar on my belly and wondered, what's this. I told him that was from the trauma team after a motorcycle crash.
Note: there's no anesthetic for that and the trauma doctor just starts cutting. I was conscious but I don't recall feeling anything from it.
The doctor today said something about a road map in the scars and it's good when someone appreciates them since it took years and quite a bit of effort to accumulate all those. Maybe it sounds sick to you but there's a lot of laughing at VA.
Then he advised he needs access to forward and rearward portals and my first thought was, wtf, this is Urology and the other ain't a urological thang. It didn't seem it was but he duly probed that portal as well.
This was the only time in my life I ever appreciated it since he reported my prostate is enlarged and that freaked me out some years ago since that's all the doctor said. This time the doctor said the enlargement is about 30% and, in combination with my age, that means the probability is near zero I'll ever get prostate cancer.
Good deal, doctor, and thanks for that.
Driving with robots would be no problem since the best driving for me when I simply want to knock off the miles is to tuck in behind a truck convoy and match speeds. I've driven thousands of event-free miles that way.
The traffic is just stupid but there will be some snark from me when Yevette gets to backseat driving, "Well, gee, Yevette. Thanks for that as, you know, I wasn't watching the road and you just saved us."
Snark, snark, snark.
Note: nothing stays snarky here for long and that goes both ways since she was pissed later since I said I would go to a store to get some soda while she waited for her popcorn but I did not realize she had not heard me. She then tried to find me and you know that couldn't have gone well.
Like I say, nothing stays snarky for long here.
But we never forget the reverence for the Lion of Judah.
The hat had to happen since hats usually give me a headache if they're at all tight but this one isn't. The price was right since no-one will stroke you inside VA. The girl said it's a rasta hat and I said, sure, the Lion of Judah. She said, he knows. She was impressed that I knew and I was impressed that she did so everything is entirely groovy in the World of Rasta.
The appointment was with Urology and no man ever wants to go there since whatever they will do with your whanger is almost certainly something you will probably hate. This isn't about that since the doctor had to check out my bits before the procedure can be scheduled. As he was doing the once over, he looked at a scar on my belly and wondered, what's this. I told him that was from the trauma team after a motorcycle crash.
Note: there's no anesthetic for that and the trauma doctor just starts cutting. I was conscious but I don't recall feeling anything from it.
The doctor today said something about a road map in the scars and it's good when someone appreciates them since it took years and quite a bit of effort to accumulate all those. Maybe it sounds sick to you but there's a lot of laughing at VA.
Then he advised he needs access to forward and rearward portals and my first thought was, wtf, this is Urology and the other ain't a urological thang. It didn't seem it was but he duly probed that portal as well.
This was the only time in my life I ever appreciated it since he reported my prostate is enlarged and that freaked me out some years ago since that's all the doctor said. This time the doctor said the enlargement is about 30% and, in combination with my age, that means the probability is near zero I'll ever get prostate cancer.
Good deal, doctor, and thanks for that.
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