lines and lines

I drove down the highway yesterday. They have redone a stretch of the road with new asphalt. It looks nice. The road is smooth and an even color black. Now how the hell does the guy who paints the lines on the road make them all screwy? I’m talking for the better part of three miles the lines are all wavy and shit. Maybe he drank a lot of cough syrup before work. You know it says clearly on the label “Do not operate heavy machinery”. The label should have a picture of this highway to illustrate the point.

They have been working on this road for three years. Tearing it up, ripping down bridges and building new ones; doing lots of stuff with big trucks and orange cones and flourescent vests. Now comes the finishing touch, “time to paint the lines Emry!” Does everyone get excited and gather around to watch the finishing touch, the frosting on the cake of three years of hard labor? I guess not, because inebriated ole Emry has swerved all over the place with the lane line drawing machine. I’m talking enough so that driving is difficult or at least distracting.