To the brainless, mouth-breathing, flaming bag of douche that drove the tractor with the chop-trees-apart brush-hog attachement at 15 mph in a 35 mph zone for three miles through a main north-south route between my daughter's school and my lunch, I hope your tractor gets plowed into by a speeding, giant dumptruck, overturns, and pins you away from your phone, on which you spent the entire twenty-five minute drive (which should have taken about half that long, at most) alternately yammering, and braking without warning. You, sirrah, can fuck right the fuck off with the brush-hog attachment directly powered by your rear exhaust.
To the oddly unChristian individuals in the Christian school parking lot, are you sure this is the example you want to set for your kids? Really? Running up on my bumper, flipping me off, and screaming invective that I can almost understand despite having closed windows because I chose to slow and let one of my fellow parents of a pre-K student (3-4 years old) into the queue to leave? If so, you may fuck off with a poster-board of "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain" made of rusty razor blades and barbed wire embedded in it, sideways, up your ass. This is the second time you've done this, and I am glad my daughter was distracted enough to miss it.
To the students who...no, I can't tell students who needed help to fuck off just because I'm late enough getting off campus to go pick up my daughter that I don't get to wave at my son through the door as he goes to lunch. But that did kinda suck, since I missed one of the little things that brightened my day just a little every day this week.
To the stinking twatwaffle that shoved me sideways into a wall because you have such piss-poor planning skills that you were already fifteen minutes late for class: you need to lose about two hundred fifty pounds, at minimum, and start dressing like a respectable college student, rather than like you're advertising for specialized services to a certain demographic that prefers to fuck things with five times their body mass. And you can fuck off chasing a rolling plate of nachos to help you drop at least a little bit of that weight.
Yes, my day has rather sucked. If yours has, too, sound off in the comments.
2 hours ago
Some days it's chicken, some days it's feathers. Hang in there! I have days where I could honestly be a full time "cleans the gene pool by whacking idiots in the face with a hatchet and sleeps like a baby at night" kind of dude. Seriously, I deal with idiots all day in my line of work. It gets very ridiculous when the corporate idiots who don't know shit from Shinola get involved. Some folks just don't know how danger close they are at times do they? I'm working on cutting a deal soon that will remove me from the corporate madness, help to return a little sunshine in my daily life, and it includes another week of paid vacation and 20k more in salary for way less stress. Have a good weekend!
ReplyDeleteIf you find the whole "cleans the gene pool" job, could you get me hired on, too?
DeleteI hope your deal works out, and that you have a great weekend.
I found myself behind a car that decided to stop before the light turned red, in a traffic zone that usually requires at least two light waits to finally get through the intersection. If words were swords, there wouldn't be enough left to bury in a butter tub.
ReplyDeleteYeah, no. I'm a novice driver (haven't done much driving until Odysseus got his new job, and I started having to ferry children to and from school daily), but even *I* don't do *that.* That's just...stupid.
DeleteOuch, sorry to hear about the shitty day. But sounds like you had three incidents, so you should be good for a while! :-)
ReplyDeleteHad one more, when I was driving the imp home, along the lines of the tractor incident. And two pixie tantrums, and a lot of whining and near crying from the imp.
DeleteI've just finished a bit of a drink, so I'm feeling much more mellow, now. But I'm still going to veg a bit.
Woah. Glad I wasn't in the path of destruction. Sounds like you left a mean wake of destruction behind you....
ReplyDeleteNope. The FFOT is so I DON'T leave a trail of bloodied corpses behind. Or at least, battered, bruised, moaning twatwaffles wondering what the fuck happened. ;)
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