Clarification

Firstly, a quick aside (knowing full well that I haven't even started writing yet and therefore couldn't possibly have an aside to go off to just yet, but you know what, roll with it. Think of it as a block of written words that have all been indented together, such that you think them very important and imposing). I do not, I believe, have a swollen ego. I like to have friends and don't mind being the topic of conversation, though I fake being upset about it (at times). Among other things, I don't think about myself either, nor have aspirations at being somebody completely famous and important. All that to say, I do not like blogging. I really couldn't care less if anybody actually reads what I write or go to links I think might interest people. It doesn't matter. You could hand me a flaming bucket of sour kraut and I will act as interested in that as I do with blogging. I do however, have an intense desire to write, and to put it somewhere where I can easily access it and have other people read it if I so choose to make them aware of the location. I thought it very important to clear that up. Now back to the beginning of the story.

Woe! Woe to the designer of Woodinville-Redmond Road and 127th Place NE. The intersection that is from, leads to, and looks remarkable similar to hell can be found there. May flaming coals be heaped upon his head with no other provocation than for simply thinking of this intersection, let alone actually allowing its implementation. It's no wonder that so many traffikitus boredus terminatus (death from sitting bored in traffic) cases are found near here. No doubt the city, county, and state have already hired the best lawyers to cast blame on some naturally occurring flora or fauna that abound only at that conjoining of two roads. Should we sit by idling or should we rev the engines of change and demand justice?! I for one will no longer just sit and watch the seconds of my life tick away whilst screeching brakes, obscene bus waiters, topless old men joggers, snob nosed bicyclists, and the same old billboards cacaphonize into a hideous din all around me. I just won't.