Obsess Much?

Yesterday on lunch I decided I would pop on over to the bank and deposit (DAMN IT I DID IT AGAIN WITH THE Y THING) some money.  Not much money, but I don’t like to carry cash because I get tempted to spend it and suddenly the six packages of granola bars I bought from the vending machine equal thirty dollars.  In case you’re confused how six packages of granola bars, at seventy cents a piece, could cost thirty dollars well then you and I are in the same boat.  But this is inevitably what happens so I have attempted to correct the way that the dollars flow endlessly from my wallet. 

The bank is less than a 10 minute drive from work which is great because it used to be like 40 bazillion miles away which meant that the lunch run bank trips were only done with there was great need, i.e. check going through and have no money! Must move money from savings to checking, stat!

Don’t you fucking love how I tell stories? I do this in person too and it is WAY more annoying.  Ask anyone, ANYONE who has spoken to me on the phone or in person and they will most definitely confirm.  I can’t just tell you the story about going to the bank, I have to tell you about the godamn granola bars and the fact that my bank has possibly the fewest amount of branches in the entire state because I picked this bank my first day of college back in 1998 in Conway, AR.  The helpful little registrar lady said I could drive down Oak Street and there’d be a fucking plethora of banks from which to choose.  She was right, there WERE a large number of banks.  It just so happens that I picked the ONE BANK that has only ONE BRANCH in Conway and ONE BRANCH in Little Rock.  But instead of moving my fundage I have fanatically stuck with this bank because I’m just too damn lazy to change over all my automatic drafts and wait for checks and shit.  But now there’s a branch close to work and the day I realized it was going to be MY BANK, the one that I normally drive 30 minutes to get to, I did myself a very large happy dance. 

So as I’m driving down the road a maroon Subaru gets in front of me and I end up directly behind him for about 10 lights in a row.  Whatever kind of Subaru he was driving is the kind that’s mostly on the level with my Honda so I could see straight through his car, thanks mostly to the fact that there was no window tinting on the vehicle.  These windows were so clear I could have seen a dog hair on the back seat if I’d tried hard enough. 

As we’re sitting at the first light the young gentleman takes his right hand and begins to notso gently smack the top of his head.  Not the side of his head, in a movement that could possibly be construed as a one-time DOH! moment.  No, he was smacking the exact center top of his head over and over and over and over.  When the light changed to green, he stopped. 

Interesting. 

Next light, same procedure.  And the next and the next and the next.  The whole time I’m sitting in my seat with my mouth hanging slightly open, mouthing What The Fuck every few minutes. 

At the last light we had together he merged into the righthand turning lane and I continued straight and into my bank parking lot all the while he continued to smack the top of his shiny and shaved bald head, over and over and over.  Then the light turned green, he turned right and placed his hand back in his lap. 

All I got to say is, Hunh?