Crazy women, start your engines.

I realised yesterday that I become a different person when I'm behind the wheel. As opposed to my usual cautious and demure self, I become reckless, profanities I never knew existed fly out of my mouth like any other cab driver complaining about everything, and I smash my beautiful Lotus 340 Roadster to pieces without a care in the world. Yes, I suffer from roadrage. The victim : my tv.

I've recently become addicted to the Xbox. The game's Project Gotham, some racing thing that I can't be bothered to explain about (mainly because I'm utterly clueless about the Kudos Championship thing they have goin' on). I've always thought it was cool to be able to be the top scorers at the Daytona arcade but I've never tried it cuz I don't wanna embarass myself. I don't even know which foot accelerates and which foot brakes. I'm just the gangsta's moll, standing at the corner, cheering J on as the 2D cars squeal down the course.

It's another story in the comforts of my home. I rule the roads here. On the tv, that is. If you look at my scores, I only come in 1st, 2nd or 3rd. Never the 5th or the 8th. Yeah I'm that good. Well, maybe I should mention that I'm only at the novice stage (the lowest out of 5 difficulty levels) and if I'm not happy with the race I can erm, restart the game. *sheepish. J must have gotten a shock when she saw me in my swearing element yesterday. I was shouting at my faithful old tv, hair all cringly and voice hoarse, while the cars behind me spoil my otherwise beautiful drift while I was apexing the corners... Words I cannot even publish exploded out of my mouth (Fuck! Did that just come from me?!) while I'm wailing about like a mad woman. If the old lady from across looked into my living room and saw me like that (i'm usually acting all domestic in the kitchen) what must she have thought? Imagine a muted version of a deranged looking, IMH escape suspect, with spittle spewing like bubbles out of the mouth, jumping around in her PJs. Scary. I'm beginning to understand why men can be so uncouth and vulgar.

So you see why I'm a huge supporter of public transport. I don't think I should learn to drive. I would cause alot of accidents with my roadrage and terrible driving. I shall just continue being the shameless, free-loading sucker that a certain someone thinks I am, and sit at the backseat of the car, helping my driving friends glare at spastic drivers and point middle fingers at them. After all, 3 well-positioned fingers in any situation, are always better than 1.