And the Award Goes To TY

So I've not posted in a couple of days, but I have such a good reason--I've been sick (really, deathly ill with a highly-mutated version of the Chica-Virus) and my mom is in town. Now I know that they are not mutually exclusive, but when my resistance is unusually low, and I'm feeling kind of punk, the last thing I need is my mom standing over my shoulder (literally) saying "Whatcha doin'???" or better yet "You're sure on that computer an awful lot...." Which is always followed by the pointed pause which I'm sure indicates on some level that each moment I spend on said computer is a moment stolen from her motherly tally sheet of love and support. I just had to bag it to preserve my health and my sanity. Plus it gives me ample opportunity to make notes for my therapist and, more importantly, this here blog.

In the interest of time, and more importantly, in an effort to fulfill my self-imposed 48-hour post criteria, I offer this little tidbit, which I shall dub my "Random Dude Commuting Award." I would also like to reserve the right to use this category as my fall-back position in the event that I get hit over the head rendering me incapable of processing thoughts and/or typing clearly, a natural freak-event such as a cyclone or a local George Clooney sighting, or the Detroit City Council actually making a decision that makes a bit of sense to humankind (which so would not be today--that whole Cobo Hall thing--really?? seriously??) Basically, any of them will render me utterly speechless, and thus needing a little sumpin' sumpin'.

But I digress. Today's Random Dude Commuting Award belongs to the enormously large man who shoved himself, literally wedged himself into a dark red Mercury Sable whose license plate read "TYSGRRL". Now, seeing the exponential hugeness of the man careening westbound on 696 in the red tin can, I was left wondering, was this TY himself? Was, perhaps, TYSGRRL stepping out on TY with this monstrosity? Or, was it a gigantic alpha-male version of a GRRL on GRRL relationship that poor, unsuspecting Terri Lynn Land never could have envisioned would occur for a measly $30 per vanity plate fee?

Don't care. Just the thought of any of those possibilities made me laugh. Perhaps I should be less jaded and believe that TY and his GRRL just have a simple love best expressed in a personalized plate. But maybe, just maybe it reveals a deep-seated, dare I say Un-Michigan, aversion to license plates that start with the letter B? Hmmm...