You went left and I went right as the moon hung proud and bright; you would have loved it here tonight.

It's your birthday again. I'm supposed to be getting ready to celebrate mine tomorrow, but I always find myself thinking about you this time of year. Birthdays, for many people, involve a same sex intoxication pre-game before meeting up with the opposite sex and heading out for the night. Every year I find myself thinking of a list of girls to invite over, and every year my list is capped at one or two - rarely any of which having been in my life for more than a year. It may be true that I've lived in over five cities from the time I was born until now, but I don't think that this is a good enough excuse for my lack of long-term lady friends. I often wonder if you leaving has kept me from savoring any other female friend relationship. I believe I was too young - barely fifteen - at the time to comprehend the significance of having you as a best friend/pseudo older sister or the impact losing you would have on my world. I always wanted to be just like you; you were so sporty, outgoing, smart, and beautiful, and you had an unforgettably bubbly, yet slightly masculine disposition. Even at Children's Hospital - where a strange ghostly skeleton sat in place of your normally healthy and athletic body - in such a paradoxically energetic manner, you told me about sky-diving, having sex for the first time, and finding a boyfriend with the same happy-go-lucky outlook.

I remember your slightly bowed legs. I remember when I got disqualified for false-starting at provincials, you hugged me tight against your navy blue aquablade cat-back suit and told me it was ok until I stopped crying. I remember I introduced you to riding and you fell in love with Castleman, a stocky dappled-grey gelding. I remember not being able to hold back my tears when Pastor Zook's metaphorical story depicted a girl approaching you on a rocky path, taking your hand, and leading you to horses. I remember how we used to scream "HONK HONK BEEP BEEP!" as we ran to the change rooms after practice. I remember watching Armageddon in your basement and breathing the strangely comforting old smell of your house. I remember talking about you finishing school when all of this was over. I remember you talking about taking dumps at school, "When you gotta go, you gotta go!" I remember when you dove weirdly into the pool one practice and came up laugh-squeel-crying that you hurt your tit really bad. I remember being excited to hear you were coming home, then feeling the walls close in when I realized it wasn't because you were getting better. I remember the way you ran all squirrely with your arms straight at your sides when you thought someone was going to slap your ass. I remember what you were wearing the last time I saw you: a black and pink TNA suit you bought in the size you expected to be when you got better. I remember the way you used to stick your tongue out just a little when you laughed. I remember my mom telling me the cancer had won.

I've often been asked why I don't act like most other girls - why I never complain or get uncomfortable in crass conversations or have problems saying what I really mean - and I've never been exactly sure how to answer. But now that I think about it, I act a lot like you. It's almost as if I've kept you alive by taking on your role as a versatile athlete, a big sis, and an all around cool gal; your memory lives inside me and I'm so fortunate to be able to share it with the world.

I miss you. Happy birthday, lovey.

I realize this song is about lovers, but it fell into my hands last night and I can't stop finding subjectively meaningful parallels in the lyrics.

"You were young, I was not old

But our story was not told

But torn apart by greedy hands"

Elton John - Your Song (cover by Ellie Goulding)

Apparently I've gotten soft in my old age. I feel like I should just run with it for a little while; if I make a joke out of it, my embarrassment will fade, right? Anyways, Prince William asked Ellie to perform this song at his and Kate's wedding for their first dance as husband as wife. A picturesque choice, if you ask me. It's enchantingly simple and - perhaps 'therefore' is a better word - undoubtedly timeless.

"I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words"

A Moment of Irk

I don't often get aggravated, but when I do it's almost always as a result of today's terrible drivers. Call me a driving bigot, but the reason for operating a vehicle on city streets is to get from point A to point B and to make good time in the process. Not only do timid and incompetent drivers get in the way of a capable driver’s journey and overall experience, but they are also one of the biggest hazards on the roads today. High speeds don't kill, shitty unaware drivers do. Almost anything a dreadful driver tries to pull on the road should warrant a license removal, but here are a few major classifications you oblivious idiots need to make yourselves aware of (not that I have any faith in your abilities to change): no reason and no warning brakers, red light rollers, unnecessarily large space leavers, sub-speed-limit crawlers, and tag-team slow drivers.

The first class of shitty driver, the no reason brakers, is one of the most frustrating and most dangerous categories of all. I have to put out a small disclaimer because my lovely mother is in this category: I love you, Mom, I just don't love your driving. The only reason you should brake on a relatively straight road without a speed trap in the direction you are headed, crosswalk with pedestrians crossing, car braking in front of you, emergency vehicle approaching with sirens blaring, red light, stop sign, or yield is if a wild person/animal suicidally leaps out in front of your car. Someone calling your cell, looky-looing at an accident, approaching a bridge/tunnel, reading street/store signs, seeing a silent police car when you are already going the speed limit, or turning to ask your daughter if she's remembered to lock the door are not justified reasons for applying the brakes under ANY circumstances. Now for the "no warning brakers": If someone is behind you and you need to make a turn, change lanes, or pull over USE YOUR FUCKING SIGNAL TO WARN THE PERSON BEHIND YOU BEFORE YOU BRAKE, THAT'S WHAT IT'S THERE FOR! It should be legal to mount a crash bar on the front of your car and rear end the shit out of any and all no warning brakers; if you don't want to be seriously injured, don't drive like a dick.

Now, when I say "red light rollers" I don't mean those who roll forward on a red light in anticipation of it turning green. As long as you time it right, which adept drivers always do, you can begin to roll as the perpendicular road's light turns red so that the transition from stop to go when your light turns green is quick and efficient. Coming to a complete stop at or behind another car at a red light requires one smooth motion of the foot onto the brake pedal. ONLY ONE. This is where I should mention the "unnecessarily large space leavers" because they often go hand in hand with red light rollers. Very little room is needed between the front of your car and rear bumper of the car in front of you and if you're too thick-headed to comprehend why making correct stops is of the utmost importance, let me break down for you: 1) In a decent sized city there is not ample space between intersections and the closer we can line the cars up, the more we can fit between lights, 2) the closer together the cars when the light turns green, the more cars able to get through the light, and 3) doing things right the first time (i.e. not being a red-light roller) avoids the issue of you and ALL of the people behind you having to make corrections - which are even more annoying for those of us who operate manual transmission.

Since I can't wrap my head around the people in the sub-speed-limit and tag-team slow driving category and I'm really quite tired of explaining basic driving commonsense: If you ever find yourself in the left lane of a road, especially a highway, and you’re going the exact same speed as the person beside you in the right lane please sharply turn your wheel farther left, plummet off the road, and kill yourself. Why the fuck did you buy a Porsche if you're going to creep under the speed limit on a bare highway? Are you blind to the line of cars building behind you?  Can you not realize that those who want to go at or above the speed limit CANNOT MOVE BECAUSE YOU’RE IGNORANTLY CRUISING AT THE SAME SPEED AS THE VEHICLE IN THE RIGHT LANE? Switch cars with me; it's so unbelievably embarrassing for you to be passed by a woman in a Kia fucking Rio.

I could go on for days about the annoying antics of modern day's drivers, but you wanna know what really grinds my gears? The fact that complaining isn't going to help anything because it's going to take a lot more than reading an internet rant to change an ignorant driver into a mindful one. The point of this moment of irk wasn't to teach anyone; I don't believe you can teach common sense or spatial awareness. I just needed my own aside to get all this resentment off my chest and to flip a sarcastic and belittling bird to all of you drivers guilty of the afore mentioned sins. If you’re reading this and thinking, "Well I don't do those things, I must be a good driver," don't think for a second that I've forgotten about left turners who barely pull out over the stop line, hindering those behind to also make a left turn on the yellow, or right turners who not only don't understand that a dotted white shoulder is meant for shifting over so that one's break in pace doesn't impede traffic flow, but also find it necessary to make a slight left turn before making the right turn - YOU'RE NOT HAULING A TRAILER, SO HUG THE FUCKING CURB - or those who find it impossible to stay in the middle of a lane. If you've self-diagnosed yourself with one of these driving disorders, I implore you to seek help from a less useless person. If, however, you've pasted a hemisphere mirror on your side-view mirror because you're incapable of shoulder checking properly, you belong in the passenger seat forevermore; for you, there is no hope.

 The Ford Crown Victoria is the biggest troll on the road. If you drive a Victrollia, you're a dick. Photo cred: imgur.com

Jim Jeffries - I Swear to God

Jim Jeffries, born and raised in Sydney, Australia, is one of my favorite vulgarly hilarious comedians. Here is his bit on religion from the "I Swear to God" CD; it is guaranteed to offend many, which obviously means that it's quality material.

"There's a panda. Go fuck the panda!"