I never want to get into a car ever again

Yesterday I drove to Rexburg and back. I don't recommend that anyone ever do that, unless it's for a real good reason. My reason was good (picking brother coolboy up at the airport and taking him to the BYU-Idaho) but that doesn't make the drive any nicer, or the crick in my neck any less real, or my beastly temper any sweeter.

So, BYU-Idaho.
That place is just strange, and takes the case for uptight. There was some orientation meeting entitled "Why you don't wear capris, shorts, or flip-flops, ever, and if you do you go straight to hell." I'm stunned those people still have the ability to poop. But hey, smart parents could use the shorts/flip-flops rule to their advantage. I know I would keep my grades up to avoid crap like that and get into a real school. (And for those of you who do attend/have attended Ricks College or BYU-Idaho and love absolutely everything about it and have a testimony of the power of not wearing capri pants and think I'm just a mean nasty person for even saying something so negative, keep it to yourself, friend. Deaf. Ears.)

Mom and I got coolboy settled in, kind of. We only got to spend a couple of hours with him, but Mom tried to make up for it by purchasing the entire contents of both Costco and Wal-Mart to put in his apartment. We met a couple of his new roommates and it turns out that 3 of them are from Alaska as well, and none of them brought coats. Is this some cousin to the "I'm from Southern California and so I dare anyone to make me wear long pants even if it is -30 outside" malady? My mom mentioned that she heard it gets pretty windy and cold in Rexburg, and one of the boys muttered, "Yeah well, it got pretty windy in Moose Bottom (or wherever). I can handle the wind." Sure thing, Skippy. They're going to find you huddled behind a dumpster this winter.

My mom told me privately that she's glad his roommates are from Alaska, because generally people from Alaska are nice. I teased her about it at the time, but I know what she means. My freshman year it was the obnoxious richie kids from San Diego who thought they were cooler than everyone else. (If you are from San Diego, but are not obnoxious and rich at the same time, then you would be silly to take offense at this, since obviously it doesn't apply to you. If it does apply to you, then that's your problem. I'm not taking it back, so you can go drive your Jetta to the beach and sulk.)

The drive back to Provo was okay for the first couple of hours. Only I got tired and started hallucinating that the construction cones were throwing themselves at my car. Turns out I was actually just driving straight for them, which is slightly different. So I asked my mom to please drive for me, which she did, because she is an angel. She drove the way up as well so I felt bad for bailing on her, but figured it was better than getting us both killed.

At one point, the freeway got a bit congested, and these idiot drivers started behaving as though they were at a barn dance or maypole or something, weaving in and out and switching lanes without signaling so they could move up a whole 15 feet. One Isuzu cut us off, and my mom got mad and turned on the brights and was keeping them on!

Me: Hey! Stop it! (smacking at her arm)

Mom: What? He cut me off!!

Me: Because you're gonna cause a wreck, and we're going to be in it!

Mom: Oh whatever, that guy's being a jerk.

Me: (all dramatically) My car is not a vehicle of road rage, Mom, and---

Mom:---okay, fine. Fine. (rolling her eyes)

Me: I'm telling the Internet what you just did.

Mom: Go right ahead. That guy had it coming.

There was probably more, but I don't remember it, because I was too tired and cranky and rabid at the time. Best of luck in school, my brother! Don't let The Man get to you!

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