*)($#!@!!! - or - how I broke my horn driving through Sherwood Park

Don't worry, my car is already on the mend, apparently it was just a fuse and fixable. All is well with the Civic, with that out of the way I will now proceed to complain about the stupidest hamlet in the world and why it should cease to exist.

As I left work, I was in a good mood, no make that a great mood. Thanks to the hard work and dedication of other friends, I don't have to crawl into BRAC tomorrow at 7:30 and beg my boss for that one ton that I booked weeks ago that he would have again forgotten about, just like every single time I book a car through him. Anyway, instead I can sleep in, sort of, and do things that I want to do. Plus I went shopping today. That's right. I know, I never go shopping, but it was half price day at Value Village (yes, I am cheap, but still dressed better than most of you, chumps), and I had a good time there. The secret is to not try on anything, but simply realize that you can try it on in the comfort of your own home, and return whatever you don't like the next day. Oh, and I had sushi. Yuperonnies it was a good day.

I had a sucker, it was strawberry, in my mouth as I traveled down some obscurely named road in Sherwood Park, I think it's Sherwood Drive or some kind of crap like that, when lo and behold, the County had been kind enough to repair the roads for the hard-working-tax-paying-citizens of the County. Wait, what's this? You didn't really fix them so much as just filled them in with loose tiny gravel chips? What the crap is that supposed to do aside from ruining your undercarriage, sandblasting your windshield, chipping the front of your car, and killing motorcyclists everywhere? AUGH! And of course some retard decides to cut me off and now I have another chip in my already replaced windshield thanks to some jerks who had nothing better to do then throw big rocks at my car. Oh, this also occurred in the Park, the police told me, very politely, that there was simply too much of this going on to track down the criminals and that there was really nothing that they could do. Hmm, maybe instead of pulling me over for non-illegal glowlights within my cars, you could investigate some of the many murders, robberies, and vandalism cases that are occurring in your jurisdiction? Nope.

Oh, and is it just me, or is there a strange co-incidence that Hartwell glass seems to be thriving following the addition of gravel on the streets, and until this year, a certain Mr. Vern Hartwell was mayor and overseeing this kind of stuff?

Next on the agenda: construction zones. The posted speed limit for a zone such as this is 50kph. I can respect this and follow the rules. I am even willing to do this when the regular speed limit is 80, and 50 seems far too slow, or if I'm being passed by dumptrucks driving through the ditch. But having some witch jump in front of my car, blowing on her whistle and waving her stupid little 'SLOW' sign is a little much. I mean, I was going slow. I was going the posted speed limit. In fact, not one of the construction workers was traveling slower or even at the same pace of my silver awesomness, and yet she seems to think that it's a smart idea to jump in front of my car. How does she make more then I do?

And on to my personal favorite, the signal light. Yes, it's only four and a half inches on average to render you from being a jerk-face that I wish death upon, to being one of my bestest buddies that I'd throw someone in front of a bullet for. Four and a half inches for you to reach from your steering wheel to flip the signal lever up or down and give me some sort of idea as to what sort of master plan is unraveling in your mind. Please, for the love of all things good and pure, do not just slam on the brakes and decide that it's a good time to turn because thanks to the fantastic loose gravel on the road, it's not only hard for me to stop on a dime, but near impossible for one of the many fatty mobiles that flip at the drop of a wombat. They have something called momentum, this is the thing that makes a train take two miles to come to a complete stop, and in the case of a Ford Exploder, at least a few more meters then the two second warning your brake lights provide me with. I was almost hit by an Avalanche today, and it would be a shame, mostly because it might leave a Chevy imprint on my car.

Finally, what the crap is wrong with Sherwood Park that they feel the need to tear down any bit of nature that they can find, turn it into a dirt pile, sell the dirt, and then let it sit for years when there are already perfectly good areas that they've already wiped out any life that may exist. I saw some ducks swimming in a pond created by a ditchdigger, where months earlier a wetlands stood. And the best part of it is, I bet many Sherwood Parkians donate to Greenpeace or WWF in hopes to somehow make amends for buying that Nissan Armada, and hoping to save the rainforests when they can't even manage to save their own backyards!

Phew. We recently got some scary looking 'tree faces' in at my store. Basically you nail eyes, a nose, and a mouth to a tree and it looks like it has a face. People love them, think that they're a great idea, the only problem is, "We don't have any trees to put them on." Yup, no trees. One guy even bought one to nail onto his deck. I mean, how sad is it that they can't even find a decent sized tree to tack on some goofy crapobilia? Normally I'm not much of a tree huger, (see my comment on ripping the heads of cute baby animals for gasoline in an earlier rant) but this is just stupid.

So go hug a tree... one of those nice smooth ones, not an evergreen, they hurt. And take some of those loose gravel chunks to wing at your nearest construction worker or member of the Sherwood Park planning committee. Is there hope? I doubt it, but I've got to be angry about something.