Part of my new commute entails navigating a busy and poorly planned series of roadways known as “Longwood Medical Area”. It’s one of those uniquely Bostonian monstrosities with two lanes and two lanes and a rotary merging in such a way as to make it impossible for the people entering from the right to get to the left and vice versa. The resulting clusterfuck would be obvious to a city planner in any other metropolis, but we in beantown like to make things a little more difficult.

I wasn’t in any particular rush this morning, but I was out late last night going shot for sake shot with Sabominator, and although I talk a good game with the boozing, that girl can really bring it home. So it’s fair to say that I was a little testier than usual as I entered the Longwood Gauntlet of Doom. It’s also fair to say that I hate people who drive Land Rovers, Range Rovers, Escalades and Hummers. So when this asshole in a feaking enormous new Rover cuts off the woman behind me and causes her to loose the piercing horn of her late-90s Taurus, I was less than pleased. I didn’t care so much about the woman, but that fucking GUY in the ROVER…

I pulled up next to him and checked out his scene. Leather interior, check. Lame music, check. Standard overpriced buisnessman crew cut, check.

Bluetooth in the ear. Check.

I rolled dowm my window.

“Excuse me? Hello – excuse me”

He looked over. I batted my eyelashes a little.

“I was wondering if you could help me out with something…”

His smile made my stomach lurch.

“I was wondering… Do you smell something?”

He looked at me, puzzled. “do I smell something?”

“Yeah – it kind of… I mean, I think it’s coming from your car.”

Traffic ahead of us started to move. I leaned over and pulled my best Marilyn Monroe, letting my cardigan slip off my shoulder ever so slightly as a lock of hair came loose from its clip. I could tell he was eating it up, probably imagining a morning adventure a la Casual Encounters. “From MY car, huh?”

I smiled. The vehicle ahead of me shifted into drive.

“Yeah. It really smells like…”

“…I mean…”

“…it really smells like DOUCHEBAG“

I squealed the tires and drove away, laughing.

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ok, I didn’t really say that. But someday I will, now that I’ve planned out the scenario. Life’s too short not to call out a douchebag when you smell one.