I'm a Yeller

Over the weekend, I spent LOTS of time in the car with Amy Beth. We took a road trip to a bridal shower for my college roommate and picked up one of my old sorority sisters on the way.

Well, throughout the weekend, it was brought up a few times about how I like to yell at cars while I'm driving. My sister thinks it's because I have road rage. I told her that I yell so that I don't get road rage.

Now, I don't stare down jerk drivers, and I've never given anyone the finger, but I will readily admit to yelling when people cut me off or poke around in the fast lane. I think its therapeutic and it makes me feel better. (Actually, I don't really think about it - I just yell... it comes out without any forethought) Of course, I think it scares the other people who are in the car with me.

And, it's not just cars. My poor husband has to put up with me yelling at the TV every morning while I'm getting dressed. I don't yell at the weather man, but I sure do get riled up when politicians come onto the morning news shows. I screamed at Senator Shelby while he was complaining about how unqualified our new Treasury Secretary, Tim Geithner, is. "Shut up, Shelby! You voted for him; I don't want to hear it... go add more wasteful spending to some bill!" And, don't ask me what I say when tax cheat Charles Rangle starts in on taxing the bailout recipients.


I know I sound like a lunatic when I yell at cars and the tv. I'm not yelling so that someone else can hear me, and I'm not actually interacting with anyone else. I'm just yelling for the sake of yelling.

And I'm not ready to stop yelling. I think I've always done it. My parents like to tell the story about picking me up after having spent the weekend with my grandmother when I was quite young. I was riding in the backseat in my car seat when I started yelling out the window at other cars, "Get out of the way, Grandma!" They gave each other a bewildered look, but soon realized where I'd learned to yell at cars like that when they repeated the story to my embarrassed grandmother. I'm proud to say that I've inherited my big feet and long legs from my beautiful Scotts-Irish grandmother. I'm also proud to say that she taught me the art of shouting at all of those incompetent drivers.

Of course, while I may not be ready to stop yelling at traffic, maybe I should learn to tone it down when I have passengers.