Woman Gets Shred of Sanity Back During Commute

Greetings fellow bloggers, bored cats, and heavily tattooed men in orange jumpsuits wasting their 10 minutes of Internet time because they googled “Kim Kardashian Boobs”!

Not only do I blog here at She’s a Maineiac, I’m also a seasoned reporter, interviewing poor slobs about their redonkulous lives.

You might remember my last report, Woman Refuses to Live in the Moment, in which gluten-freak Oprah dished out unsolicited advice to a broke woman and her farting asthmatic cat, Mr. Wankers.

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No? Well, shut up and eat a bagel.

Now time for today’s report!

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Sometimes the daily grind of life is all too much for one 47-year-old woman from the quaint coastal village of East Scrotum, Maine (not to be confused with Scrotum’s Point, a sad little town north of South Bunghole).

Ah yes, Maine — The Way Life Should Be.™

Image result for maine scenery

Unless your life should be that you’re perpetually broke, your feet ache, your boobs sag, and your shit stinks.*

I met up with Starla Turdbucketsen early one morning to see how she does it. How does she survive in today’s crazy-ass world? How in god’s name does she wake up every effing day — remember who she is — yet continue to get up anyway?

“It ain’t easy,” Starla sighed, blowing a steady stream of smoke into my face.

“So, you smoke cigarettes now?”

“No.”

“Let’s talk about your life. Who is Starla Turdbucketsen? You’re a daughter of an elderly parent who thinks Elvis reincarnated as a 13-year-old gospel singer from Sweden. You’re a mom of a teen who thinks he’s going to college to triple major in YouTube Celebrity/Video Gamer/Culinary Farts. You’re a mom to a tween daughter. You’re a wife to a man who incessantly watches MASH reruns in his underwear.”

“Correct.”

“Starla, in the past year, you’ve gone through menopause, major surgery, and the legal separation of Chris Pratt and Anna Faris. You work two jobs, yet you’re wearing a bra you bought circa 1989. Any thoughts, insights or revelations you’d care to share with us about being a modern woman in today’s society?”

“Well, if I have to pluck one more freaking gray hair out of my chin, I swear I’m gonna lose my shit. So there’s that. ”

“So, why do it? What gets you going day after day? Why not just drive your Toyota Corolla into the nearest brick wall?”

“The commute.”

“The what?”

“Are you deaf, you unbelievable nimrod? The commute!”

Oh yeah, the work commute!

Image result for work commute

(And yes, my doctor says I’m currently suffering from progressive hearing loss, but let’s get back to Starla and her desperate attempt to cling to those last few scraps of sanity.)

Let’s face it — most of our lives would be a never-ending shit parade if not for those blissful 28 minutes of the morning when you are alone in your car, driving to your soul-sucking job.

I think most harried Americans would agree, the commute is that rare time when you are free to let it all go. That’s right…just take a deep breath…roll down the windows to air out the stench of “medicinal” marijuana…crank some hip-hop…and forget our president is a cross between Forrest Gump and Gary Busey.

Slide1“What is it about the commute that appeals to you, Starla?”

“Two words: No. News.”

“Two more words: ‘Nuff said.”

And so concludes another in-depth interview! Stay tuned next week when I ask Starla her take on the current nuclear crisis with North Korea! (Preview: She thinks it’s the classic “my missile/ego/therapy bill is bigger than yours” dust-up)

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*In 2007, the Maine State Tourism Board fired the marketing director after he presented the slogan: Maine: The Way Life Should Be (Except For Those Who Are Perpetually Broke & Their Feet Ache & Their Boobs Sag & Their Shit Stinks. If That’s You–Move To New Hampshire.)

 

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36 thoughts on “Woman Gets Shred of Sanity Back During Commute

    1. Hey, I had the first comment – whoo hooo! I’m not sure why that is important, except that it is.

      This small victory gives me some incentive to keep going, even though everything else in life stinks, and my blog is so dead I’m thinking of having visitation hours like at the funeral home. Most of my readers have abandoned me. I guess they have better things to do since President Obama pardoned all of them on his last day in office.

      1. Oh how I hear you! I think even the crickets have deserted me. I’m not sure why I even bothered to post today. Something came over me. Like a faint memory of the WordPress glory days when people actually read my stupid posts. I’ve gone months without posting and forgot how easy it is to waste 2 hours of my precious time trying to doctor up a PowerPoint slide with rap lyrics.

        Thank god you’re here to keep me company.

  1. People do actually read your posts. I cam back from the blogging deadheads to do it!

    And I have been totally screwing up my evening commute with news. Because something always happens between 6-8 when I am on my way home (not the whole time, but some 30-40 minute period in there). Obviously, I need to change to the Elvis channel.

    1. Elyse! You’re here too! As long as there are three of us left with breath in our WordPress bodies, we will power on. Without listening to the news.
      Glory, glory, halellloooooooooya! Glory, glory, halellllllooooya, Glory, glory halillllllooooooya our blogs are marching on!!! (I used up my exclamation point allotment for the month on this.)

      1. Yes!!!!!!!!!! News schmews!! I can still find the humor in things, dammit!!!!! As long as I know you two ladies have got my back, my blog will never die (it will just fade away occasionally into a months-long coma)

  2. Nice shot of Portland ahead Light. Yours? I finally got there last Sept for the first time ever.

    Do the residents of East Scrotum walk around asking each other, how’s it hanging? Just wondering. Cheers to yet another summer!

    1. Nope, that is not my photo. I really should get back into photography!
      And yes, East Scrotum residents do have the balls to ask “how’s it hanging?” although sometimes that can lead to a hairy situation.

  3. We just came back from vacation, where I REFUSED to listen to a WORD of NEWS. Life was good, really really good. Now we’re back ….

    I use to love my work commute. I could care less about being stuck in traffic, as long as I had my tunes and no one was asking me questions life was freaking amazing!

  4. I listen to music on my commute, but some the stations insist on me being informed. I used to think news was great because it’d give me ideas for my posts, but now there are so many ideas I can’t even focus on one.
    P.S., I think both Maine and New Hampshire are great news-wise. I don’t think anything ever happens in these states, except maybe once every 4 years in New Hampshire, so you probably get less news there.

    1. That’s true, it’s news overload. What do you pick to comment on? What with the “breaking news” breaking every second of the day and night. It’s really become a three-ring circus. I had another post ready this week titled “White House in Crisis: No Crises!”

  5. I’ve been to East Scrotum! And you’re right, it’s easy to confuse it with Scrotum Point. However the “point”, as we like to call it here in the south, does have one distinction. It’s at the very bottom of the list of Kim Jung-un’s possible missile strike targets in the U.S.

  6. I’m here! I’m reading! and laughing. Yeah, Maine, the way life should be, and since so many people believed it, they elected a president who is a clone of our governor. Now where are we supposed to go to get away from all the idiots?

  7. And that is the bizarre magic of the suburbs. Where people live in the middle of nowhere, in a fishbowl disguised as a cul de sac, mowing lawns they don’t even walk on and vacuuming 17 different levels of carpet in a house they can’t afford–its for the commute, dammit!😂😂
    Loved the post. And might be crushing on Starla just a bit.

  8. My commute has gotten so much better since I quit listening to the radio and made myself a mixtape of Ninja Sex Party songs to listen to instead. Now I get to spend my drive belting out lyrics about dicks instead of hearing about them on the morning show.

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