Social Experiment #1
I'm at the grocery store last night to purchase a few necessities essential to my survival and reproductive capabilities: toothpaste, cat food, 1% milk, chicken noodle soup. And as I approach my just-under-two-month-old baby black, supreme feat of Japanese automotive engineering, I casually notice and just as quickly, disregard the white, GM mini-van pulling into the space on the passenger side. It's approximately 6:48 pm. A dark, cool, yet crisp Denver evening. Have you noticed how difficult it is to find black objects at night?
As I settle my white, albeit chilly ass into my heated leather seat and find the appropriate XM radio station to fulfill my musical desires and compliment my grocery shopping accomplishments, I hear a C-Rrrrr-U-N-C-H.
Not shaken, as I felt no jolting movement, I notice our General Motors Mini-Van driving human counterpart putting their vehicle in reverse and backing up. No head lights. And causally separating herself from the silver Pontiac from which her front end so rudely and abruptly tagged from behind. Ahem.
As I watch our experienced and supposedly state licensed driver exit from her 4-wheeled chariot, I notice a supremely overweight, 80's haircut, pink shirt wearing woman, walking towards the front of her car, I presume to inspect for damage. Being that her head lights were off, it was dark and she didn't go too far past her side view mirror, her left breast (or love handle, I couldn't tell) narrowly avoiding the demise of my passenger side view mirror, it was obvious that she had no clear idea as to the damage done to either vehicle.
And just as hurriedly, she headed off to the grocery store. Ya know, cause there's food in there.
So I sat there for a moment and thought. Aside from the possibility that this scenario could make one of the most useless blog posts in history, I couldn't help but wonder if this was further evidence to support the ever popular belief that women can't drive. Or park. And then I thought, 'that can't be true,' because I know quite a few fantastic female drivers. Ok, not quite a few. But a few. And then I thought that there has to be some underlining factors causing what could be an otherwise competent female driver to rear-end a parked car while parking in the grocery store parking lot and not leaving a note. Or at least moving to another parking spot. . .
So being that I do research for a living, as well as dedicate a majority of my existence to making, shall we call her Seductive Smiles? happy, I decide this sociological question needs further, professional investigating.
So I take note of her license plate's alpha-numeric information and go back into the grocery store to purchase a 12 oz tub of Sinton's (Quality Chekd) Green Chili Sour Cream Dip and a bag of Restaurant Style Corn Tortilla Chips as well as a 12 pack of Mt. Dew. Cause Mt. Dew's the shit. I figure the sour cream dip will simulate the obesity variable and a 12 pack of Mt. Dew will simulate the possible retardation and complete and utter disregard for all personnel and material objects around my person. If I can accurately simulate those two variables and still be unable to reproduce this GM-driving woman's results, than wouldn't you agree that it MUST be the fact that she's a woman?
This is real science. Internet, meet real science. Real science. . .Internet.
Sit tight kids. I'll publish the results in due time.
As I settle my white, albeit chilly ass into my heated leather seat and find the appropriate XM radio station to fulfill my musical desires and compliment my grocery shopping accomplishments, I hear a C-Rrrrr-U-N-C-H.
Not shaken, as I felt no jolting movement, I notice our General Motors Mini-Van driving human counterpart putting their vehicle in reverse and backing up. No head lights. And causally separating herself from the silver Pontiac from which her front end so rudely and abruptly tagged from behind. Ahem.
As I watch our experienced and supposedly state licensed driver exit from her 4-wheeled chariot, I notice a supremely overweight, 80's haircut, pink shirt wearing woman, walking towards the front of her car, I presume to inspect for damage. Being that her head lights were off, it was dark and she didn't go too far past her side view mirror, her left breast (or love handle, I couldn't tell) narrowly avoiding the demise of my passenger side view mirror, it was obvious that she had no clear idea as to the damage done to either vehicle.
And just as hurriedly, she headed off to the grocery store. Ya know, cause there's food in there.
So I sat there for a moment and thought. Aside from the possibility that this scenario could make one of the most useless blog posts in history, I couldn't help but wonder if this was further evidence to support the ever popular belief that women can't drive. Or park. And then I thought, 'that can't be true,' because I know quite a few fantastic female drivers. Ok, not quite a few. But a few. And then I thought that there has to be some underlining factors causing what could be an otherwise competent female driver to rear-end a parked car while parking in the grocery store parking lot and not leaving a note. Or at least moving to another parking spot. . .
So being that I do research for a living, as well as dedicate a majority of my existence to making, shall we call her Seductive Smiles? happy, I decide this sociological question needs further, professional investigating.
So I take note of her license plate's alpha-numeric information and go back into the grocery store to purchase a 12 oz tub of Sinton's (Quality Chekd) Green Chili Sour Cream Dip and a bag of Restaurant Style Corn Tortilla Chips as well as a 12 pack of Mt. Dew. Cause Mt. Dew's the shit. I figure the sour cream dip will simulate the obesity variable and a 12 pack of Mt. Dew will simulate the possible retardation and complete and utter disregard for all personnel and material objects around my person. If I can accurately simulate those two variables and still be unable to reproduce this GM-driving woman's results, than wouldn't you agree that it MUST be the fact that she's a woman?
This is real science. Internet, meet real science. Real science. . .Internet.
Sit tight kids. I'll publish the results in due time.
