Dunkin’ Do-Not

You know you’re in Indiana when:

People lined up at 5 a.m. Monday morning for the opening of the Westfield Dunkin’ Donuts store on 146th Street. Moms scooted in to buy a dozen to-go. Two teenage girls had been in the parking lot since 4 a.m.

“We just sat in the car and read Cosmo (the magazine),” said Courtney Carlile, 18, Carmel, over a half-dozen iced donuts she was sharing with friend Brittany Hunt, 16, Westfield. “I love donuts a lot.”

Dunkin’ Donuts is poised to open more than two dozen stores in the Indy metro area over the next year or so. That’s a lot of donuts. That sound you hear is the collective sound of Indy’s wasteline expanding further. Maybe we’re shooting to be America’s fattest city — we’re already in the top ten.

Votebook

Gee. I hope the voters in rural West Virigina check out Facebook before they vote in November:

Emily Nordling has never met a Muslim, at least not to her knowledge. But this spring, Ms. Nordling, a 19-year-old student from Fort Thomas, Ky., gave herself a new middle name on Facebook.com, mimicking her boyfriend and shocking her father.

“Emily Hussein Nordling,” her entry now reads.

With her decision, she joined a growing band of supporters of Senator Barack Obama, the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee, who are expressing solidarity with him by informally adopting his middle name.

IKEA IDEA

Brandon and I ventured down to Cincy today for our first trip to IKEA. We left this morning, arrived two hours later and were in awe at the size and color of the store. It was the first time I ever saw a bright yellow building that actually looked neat.

Long story short, Brandon and I are in the process of creating a study out of Mitchum’s old room. I have photos to post later, but the room is coming together well — minus paint and some artwork to hang around.

The best part is I spent less than $300 and managed to get two large chairs, a 4 column by 4 row bookshelf, a table, a rug and some light fixtures. Even better — it all fit inside of my Beetle. Passers-by were in awe of the spectacle and one guy commented that I’d probably have better luck fitting an elephant in the back. I assured him I would succeed, and I did. The only caveat was that I couldn’t see Brandon on the trip home and I really couldn’t move my legs or right arm much.

The conservative mind

Daily Kos brings us this gem:

It must be really scary to be a conservative. To be one, you must live in constant fear of terrorists nuking the United States, of gay people on the verge of convincing you that you really enjoy sodomy, of Spanish becoming the official language of the United States next week, of every African-American voting seven or eight times in the next election, of radical Islam suddenly becoming the latest hip thing among kids across the country, of perpetual lesbian orgies in girls bathrooms in high schools across America, of liberals forcing everyone to become a vegan, of Christians being rounded up into concentration camps, and of Democrats outlawing private property if they were to ever take power again.

At least I’m not that kind of conservative. I just don’t like it when people change street names or move the meat counter at the grocery store is all.

You’re welcome

Two days ago I was driving home from work, shooting down Southeastern Ave. and buzzing past construction zones and stoplights with ease. Then, up ahead, I saw it: someone driving on a moped.

Normally, I’d applaud anyone that can find ways to save money to get where they need to be, but this person arrogantly drove dead-center in the lane and refused to let anyone get around, despite being able to see three cars to their rear in mirrors.

I, being the car in the front, had to take the lead in trying to get around this universally-recognized a-hole but every time I attempted to get over, either they would get over or oncoming traffic became an issue.

As we approached a decline in the road and, seeing as how a brief thundershow stomped across the metro area, free-standing water was at the bottom of Southeastern Ave. near Sherman.

In this moment, I could tell as I got closer to the mopey-mo-ped-estrian that the driver was an older woman. She attempted to avoid the standing water and getting herself wet by crossing into oncoming traffic in an area where the median and shoulders are narrow due to a train track bridge above. She crossed over, against traffic and made several people swerve and stop in the process.

Myself, seeing a moment of opportunity to get ahead of this crazy woman, decided to push through the water. So did the five other cars that piled in behind me.

We all took our turns driving through the water, displacing it to the sides, and drenching the woman on her mo-ped. With my window down and behind the talking of NPR on my radio, all I heard was “HEY! YOU’RE GETTING ME ALL WET!”

As we approached the next light at Southeastern and Sherman, the five of us stuck together and the woman, travelling all of 20 MPH, buzzed her way past everyone and specifically stopped next to my bug and in a crazy-cat-lady-style voice said, “THANK’S FOR GETTING ME ALL WET!” I looked at her and looked back at my radio. I turned up NPR and said, “Sorry” in the least-caring voice I could.

If you’re going to drive on the roadway in a slow-moving vehicle, be prepared to adapt and move out of the way for larger vehicles. You can believe if a huge semi or a tank comes barelling at me on I-465, I’m going to move. She should be prepared to move for anything larger than her — like a VW Beetle.