Sometimes after a long 12 hour day when I haven’t had a chance to eat lunch or breakfast, and the valet at the restaurant I was just shooting photos at asked me impolitely to move my car because I was parked “illegally”, in his words, in his precious parking lot, and afterwards the person in front of me sits at the red light refusing to make their right turn, even though there is no sign, sometimes after days like that I find myself eating dinner the way a hungry ill-tempered zombie eats brains. Tonight, as I was sitting in my car literally cramming Wendy’s fries into my mouth, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be embarassing if someone I knew walked up to my window right now and saw me eating this way all hunched over my fries like an animal?” It would be like getting caught with a dirty magazine by your mother. Well, not that bad, but I could just imagine the stories that would be told behind my back in secret whispers. “I saw him with at least five fries in his mouth trying to stuff at least five more in there before he even had a chance to chew. And there was a coke in his other hand which made him look like one of those professional hot dog eating contest champions.”

So there’s this term in the military which I wish existed in the civilian world. It’s “Unless Otherwise Directed” which is normally shortened to as UNODIR. For example, recon units will submit plans of action to their headquarters which might be something along the lines of, “UNODIR, we will head South to grid coords x,y,z and recon enemy positions in that area.” That means, “Unless you want me to do something else, we will do this.” Simple enough. But since learning this term, I’ve found myself wanting to use it all the time. It constantly applies. UNODIR, I will wear cargo pants every day to work. UNODIR, I will shoot just the patient and skip the doctor, because the shots of patients with doctors is becoming tiresome being on every page.

Anyway, to every resident of IL, you CAN turn right on a red light, UNODIR! So stop flicking me off when I beep at you, you’re holding up the line. My horn is covered in grease from my french fry fingers.

What do you think?