Before I begin, I should perhaps note some kind of disclaimer so I don't get hell's fury rained down upon me.
Texting while driving is bad; don't do it.
OK, now that THAT is over...
I think they're right to make texting while driving illegal because most people can't do it properly. I mean, come on, I remember when car phones first came out (actual portable ones, not the ones from the 80s) and people couldn't even talk and drive - AND THAT IS WHEN THEY STILL HAD BOTH EYES ON THE ROAD. I often wondered if those people had trouble eating and breathing at the same time. Life's tough for many, I know.
Just like only certain people who are really good at driving fast are allowed to do so on a race course as a competitive sport, I think there should be a "distracted drivers" circuit... and of course, I would be the Mario An-fucking-dretti of said circuit, just with nicer boobs and my penis is detachable.
Here is my proposed course and the particular challenges, of which all of them I would ROCK. Hercules can take his 12 labors and push them out his coccyx. Here's where it's at...
1. Off to a good start and then WHOA! I see you, first corner. You're of no consequence to me.
2. Motherfucker pulled out from a hidden driveway. Yeah, I saw that right in between my texts of "yr so funny" and "c u soon".
3. LEFT TURN. Switched the phone to my right hand as I crank that wheel and text like an ambidextrous rockstar.
4. School bus stopped to pick up kids. How could I NOT see that giant yellow bus. Fucking amateurs.
5. I laugh in the face of a roundabout. See? I just texted: "LOL" while going around it.
6. Stop light? Well, we're on a course, so I'm just going to go ahead and ignore that one, mmmk?
7. Cyclists! Your attempt at thinking you're equal to a motorized vehicle is amusing. If you had your mobile on, I would text, "Go fuck yrslf in the bicycle lane" as I drive past you at twice the speed.
And yet, through my anger, I maintain focus and no less than two bars on my 3G network.
8. Thirty year old skateboarder?! OK, so I just took him out, but that was on purpose. Deduct points, if you must. I shall come back after the race and wrap an Element t-shirt around the poll with a wreath, and simply write, "Sk8r 4eva".
9. Oh, what's this? A rail crossing? I'll speed up and fly over that shit with my gigantic beast of metal and car seats.
10. Wow, that's a tight one! (That's what he said). And yet, although violently laughing at my own joke, I handle that corner with ease as I text to a friend, "Yr gonna love this 1. Ha!"
And after much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I'll win the race - and they will pour breast milk all over me as I hoist the trophy over my head, (but it would be the pump n' dump breast milk crap from a woman that did a shit load of vodka & Kahlua shots the night before, so what's being poured all over my body is essentially a White Russian).
Like I would take viable breast milk intended for an actual baby. Pisshhha. I'm not a monster.
But still...the moral of this story? IS THAT I WIN.
Ok ok ok ok, I was somewhat interested in coming to Canada and visiting you.
Now, after this, I'm afraid to come within 20 miles of your normal driving routes.
If you need me, I'll be in the corner, in the fetal position, fearing for my life.