That BITCH.
That piece of shit! That lousy BITCH! That CUNT!
I'll explain, but I'm not happy about it. You're going to find out something about me that will have you rolling in the aisles. Whatever. I couldn't cash a check for a shit and two peanuts with what I think of you.
First, I'd been particularly vulnerable to colds for the last several months or so, and so on the advice of Ray's doctor (he is reviewed as the best in the area) I agreed to consume beef once again. ONLY IN SMALL DOSES. For medical purposes. It's not like I was deep-throating skirt steak at Chili's, like the rest of you schlubs who clean your ears with System Of A Down and get nervous if you take a shit smaller than a baked potato.
So there I was, my tightly-tied baggie with the styrofoam container of beef sukiyaki ("Ohayooo!" - $6.95) harnessed carefully against the passenger door of the Insight, trying to back out of my parking spot on the busy main street downtown. As it is the Christmas season, the street was jam-packed, and I knew that waiting for a person of decency to let me out could be quite a while.
Finally my window of opportunity came. A small black Mercedes held position when traffic moved forward, and I backed slowly out.
To my horror, the driver began to honk and advance! I was aghast. What was this betrayal? Then I SAW it! She had been typing on a phone! She hadn't been trying to let me in at all!
With a haste of rage she pulled into oncoming traffic to get around me. Oh, she succeeded, alright (the Insight isn't the fastest rocket ship in the universe), but you can be sure I yelled out of my window at her ("WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM YOU BITCH YOUR CUNT IS REAL ESTATE AND ITALIANS THROW FRUIT AT YOUR MIND!").
Man, did that juice me. I hadn't felt that good in ages. The fellow behind her was watching it unfold and I was able to pull into traffic right behind her. I laid on some pretty hard stares but she kept pretending to text on her cell phone. I wrote her license plate # in my dashbook and if I ever see her here again I'll give her a few miles of Pat Time. Did I mention I've hooked the Insight up with a dash cam? I'm sure she'll fuck up again. I may go back to that stretch tomorrow at the same time to see if it's an area she regularly uses. Usually it is.
I'll explain, but I'm not happy about it. You're going to find out something about me that will have you rolling in the aisles. Whatever. I couldn't cash a check for a shit and two peanuts with what I think of you.
First, I'd been particularly vulnerable to colds for the last several months or so, and so on the advice of Ray's doctor (he is reviewed as the best in the area) I agreed to consume beef once again. ONLY IN SMALL DOSES. For medical purposes. It's not like I was deep-throating skirt steak at Chili's, like the rest of you schlubs who clean your ears with System Of A Down and get nervous if you take a shit smaller than a baked potato.
So there I was, my tightly-tied baggie with the styrofoam container of beef sukiyaki ("Ohayooo!" - $6.95) harnessed carefully against the passenger door of the Insight, trying to back out of my parking spot on the busy main street downtown. As it is the Christmas season, the street was jam-packed, and I knew that waiting for a person of decency to let me out could be quite a while.
Finally my window of opportunity came. A small black Mercedes held position when traffic moved forward, and I backed slowly out.
To my horror, the driver began to honk and advance! I was aghast. What was this betrayal? Then I SAW it! She had been typing on a phone! She hadn't been trying to let me in at all!
With a haste of rage she pulled into oncoming traffic to get around me. Oh, she succeeded, alright (the Insight isn't the fastest rocket ship in the universe), but you can be sure I yelled out of my window at her ("WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM YOU BITCH YOUR CUNT IS REAL ESTATE AND ITALIANS THROW FRUIT AT YOUR MIND!").
Man, did that juice me. I hadn't felt that good in ages. The fellow behind her was watching it unfold and I was able to pull into traffic right behind her. I laid on some pretty hard stares but she kept pretending to text on her cell phone. I wrote her license plate # in my dashbook and if I ever see her here again I'll give her a few miles of Pat Time. Did I mention I've hooked the Insight up with a dash cam? I'm sure she'll fuck up again. I may go back to that stretch tomorrow at the same time to see if it's an area she regularly uses. Usually it is.
