So I'm driving home from a pleasant, delicious Christmas Eve dinner at my father's house, and I'm in the right lane because I know I have a right turn coming up in a bit. The car in the left lane -- hi, welcome to Oregon -- is going about 7 miles under the speed limit, for no apparent reason. He signals that he's going to move into my lane, and while my initial reaction was, "Oh, no, Pokey, you're not getting in front of me," and move into the left lane to pass him, I decide, no, it's Christmas, let it be. So I ease up on the pedal to give him room to come over.
And then after 45 more seconds or so he's still in the left lane, so I muttered, to no one in particular, "Come on, dickwad." Then, this being Christmas, I felt ashamed.
Then after another block or so, as he still hasn't moved over, I conclude that he is a moron and I accelerate to the speed limit. As I get to about six inches from his bumper, he suddenly moves into my lane.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!" I shouted.