Bent Words

Bent Words

April 23, 2009

In the ten minutes it takes me to get home from work, I was nearly involved in four accidents. TEN MINUTES! Six miles. Pathetic.

Seriously... Dude's rash decision to turn DIRECTLY in front of me -- was it based on limited depth perception? Stupidity?

Can you not see me? Did I inadvertently yell 'Go go gadget invisi-car!'


Have they changed the f'ing speed limit from 25 to WATCH THE F OUT! while I was at lunch?

And, speaking of that...

Dude. It's not Daytona F'ing Speedway. You're not cool, squealing the tires of your Ford F'ing Escort, and it's not a race so SLOW THE F DOWN. There are no prizes for fastest lap time. There are no trophies or prizes. There aren't any checkered flags to be had at the 'finish' because THERE IS NO F'ING FLAG.

It's a PARKING LOT, Danica, not a race.


The other option is to continue racing down your path of obscured reality but just know that it will be ME, the one you almost face grilled while driving 40MPH in a WALGREEN'S parking lot full of slow people purchasing life-enabling prescriptions, who reports your southbound f'ing progress to the local police department as 'potentially dangerous' because you most closely resembled someone 'heavily under the influence.'

Just watch how easily I mistake that can of Mountain Dew for a Miller Light, bitch.

Girl, 30, dies of head injuries incurred by Earnhardt The F'ing Third while crossing Walgreen's parking lot after purchasing cat litter.


And, speaking of dead...

Until HE is fired or dead I will calmly persist in calling him Lester at every available opportunity. In fact, if I want to call him straight up MOLESTER, I most certainly will. He has, at the very least, earned the right to be mocked in everlasting hatred after trying his hand at a twelve year old girl. So please don't tell me to 'shhhhhh' when you're the one who has employed a criminal to work next me. Don't tell me to be 'nice' when the scum bag's record is readily available to the general PUBLIC and therefore open to opinion. Don't ask me to 'give him a chance' when the court system obviously failed at it's job of retribution by only banning him from society for a period of two years after he molested a CHILD. He deserves all the disdain I've got and then some...

Besides all that, he's f'ing pathetic.

Second day on the job and he whiskey throttles a four-wheeler into SIX motorcycles? Really? No one wants to fire the dude and let go of obvious liability?

And he's stupid.

Number one, he STILL doesn't understand why I call him Lester.

Number two, Dude tried to convince me that 2008 Honda CBRs come stock with gear indicators on them. WHAT? Do you mean neutral? Is that what you think consists of a gear indicator? THE F'ING GREEN LIGHT WHICH INDICATES NON-GEAR?! Are you serious? Are you trying to tell me what's up, you fat f'ing failure?

I asked him to follow me (the first and only time which that request will be made) so that I could SHOW him, rather than having to explain, how stupid he was. We walked up to a bike and I said, in a high-pitched happy voice, "Here's the key, Lester, I'll even let you turn it!"

Poor Lester, wrong again.

Number three, I had to listen to him explain to a customer that his first bike is going to be a GSX-R1000. Why (no one really cares but the story can't just end there)? Because he would 'look retarded' on a tiny little 600cc bike. Right, as though any bike could help with that aspect of your being, Lester. But buy the big bike, please. I dare you. I'll help you sign the paperwork, you half-witted illiterate ass. You couldn't fill the potential of a damned Rebel but I implore you to buy the one-liter just so we can embrace the powers of natural selection in all its glory and be rid of you once and for all.

Thanks for playing Lester.

Now F off.

Written at 11:03 p.m.