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Power Pooped Boy

Words can't even begin to describe how drained I feel. I've been doing the chauffeuring thing the whole of today and I can almost emphatise with the anal-retentive way cab drivers traverse the streets. I say almost, because they still do agitate the heck outta me.
I guess my dream of being a chauffeur is all but thoroughly smashed. Not exactly the height of human ambition, I suppose. It's largely influenced by the movie <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/offers/new/B00005S6K8/ref=dpr_sdp_bb/103-5934103-2399801">Sabrina</a>, of which I am a swooning fan.
Sabrina tells her dad who's a chauffeur, that the thing she liked most about him was that he chose to be a chauffeur so that he had time to read.
I'm still enchanted by the movie, and maybe even stupidly so. The job of ferrying people around, coupled with having to deliver documents would have been bearable were it not for the culture of the road. Out there it is every man for himself, every woman for herself. And if you should be an unfortunate victim of subpar driving, just scream, shout or mutter "…woman driver…" and be on your way, whether or not you be anatomically correct.
I'm glad I'm writing now though. It helps me regain my sanity. Thanks for listening.

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