ATTEMPTS TO BECOME WHOLE AGAIN ARE FORTHCOMING, BUT FIRST I HAVE SOME WORK TO DO BY BRIAN POLK | ART BY JASON WHITE THE ONLY TIME I WISH I WOULD GET A GODDAMNED RED LIGHT FOR ONCE IS WHEN I’M TEXTING AND DRIVING Ordinarily the inconvenience of stopping at a red light inspires moments of fleeting disappointment. Of course, this could very well be exacerbated by how many cycles it takes to get through a particular traffic light and/or how bad you have to use the restroom. But every now and again, I’ll find myself in a really entertaining text exchange, and I don’t want to have to wait to respond just because I happen to be driving at the time. And that’s when I not only hope for a red light, but I actually get mad when I don’t get one. “Another fucking green light,” I yell to no one. “When is my luck going to change?” Of course, I could pull over No. 131 and finish my text exchange in a secure parking space, but I mean, come on. I got places to be. ARE YOU READY TO JOKE ABOUT THAT YET? Remember that time your hair caught fire when you were trying to light a cigarette at the park, and we noticed before you did and dumped our beer on your head to put it out? And you got mad at us for all the beer on your person? And we tried to explain that your hair was on fire, but you simply wouldn’t believe us? Then you cried, and said you hated all your friends so much, and you wished we would just leave you alone? And after we got home that night, you saw all the singed hair in the mirror, and felt bad for yelling at us? So we dumped beer on your head
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