Running buck wild like a concubine

You know the enjoyable experience of talking to a friend about something you've recently taken interest in--a foreign instrument with a beautiful timbre, a director you have taken a fancy to--and suddenly the world decides to provide more of these things in little ways? You see a billboard of the director's new movie, you hear the instrument on the radio. It's like the fates were provoked by the small discussion and are suddenly focused on brightening your day and giving you more of your recent interest.

I have recently had this experience but, unfortunately, in relation to this:


For those of you who can't manage to see what that is, it's a fake ball sack hanging off the back of a truck. Their official name is "Truck Nutz." If there's anything we need less of, it's visible testicles (fake or not). I saw a pair while driving with my boyfriend the other day, and voiced my disgust. I have seen roughly four pairs since. Florida has apparently banned the fake balls.

I'm tempted to write a note to my Representative citing this example to lower the amount of "Truck Nutz" on the road. Either that or the fates forcing these into my life need to chill the hell out.