2 posts tagged “oooh that sucks for you”

I just read the question of the day, but I already had this entry in my head, and it goes against everything that today's QotD stands for.

I may have a bit of verbal road rage.

I keep it to myself, I don't roll down the windows, I rarely honk.  Everything I say stays within the confines of my dear little car.

For example, I was driving to Target today, singing along to The Hush Sound, happy as can be, when Country Bumpkin Jackass in front of me decides to suddenly brake for no apparent reason, and the light right in front of him is green.   Green means go.

"La-da-DOOOOO-la-da-YOU F*CKING ASSHOLE WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING?!?!  GO!!!!!  STUPID F*CKING JERK!!  AAAAAAAGH!!!"

He's at a full stop now, on the cell phone, looking up at the street signs.  There are horns going off everywhere, only fueling my anger and thirst for fresh blood.  Fresh Country Bumpkin blood.  Finally, FINALLY, he turns onto the road to our right.

Obviously, I am out of the running for the Purple Ribbon Project poster child.

There is little that compares with people-watching at nightclubs here in my hometown.  We're located in a dry county (heh, I accidentally wrote "cunty"...that's amusing), so you have to drive out to "The Line" to score booze, or else sit in a restaurant or become a patron of our many fine drinking establishments.  (<-----that last bit is dripping with sarcasm, FYI.)

One thing that we noticed last night is the understated hilarity of cowboys trying to gyrate in their skin-tight jeans and checkered shirts to songs such as Flo Rida's "Low" or The Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha?" 

Oh, my side.  I can't stand it...it's too funny...I have to go pee.

Along the same lines, it is also amusing to watch bar games in which grown men, complete with plungers strapped to their waists in a very suggestive way, race down the dance floor, one of whom plants his face on the ground almost immediately because his boots have no traction.  Ouch.

Mullets are funny.  Also, rat-tails.  There's nothing like a mullet to send a flock of girls running straight into the bathroom. 

Oh, and to the fucker who sidled up and slurred something about "I just saw a group of girls and figured what the hell", you're lucky I didn't go all Shaun of the Dead on you with my pool stick when you stepped on my little toe.  Kiss my ass and go back to your dark little corner. This is girls' night and you're not invited.