Christ, it’s hot.
Isn’t that always the way? Been living here for twenty-six years, and now I hear they’re making this a four-way stop. I don’t know how many fucking weeks of my life I’ve wasted sitting at this cocksucking stop sign, but now that we’re moving next week, now they’re going to give me a fucking break. It makes me want to pull the sign up, go down to city hall, and beat one of those planning shitheads to death with in.
Jesus Christ, it’s hot.
Fuck, I wish this traffic would give me a break. It’s always like this when I want to turn left. Oh, look at this fucking guy. Enough of a gap for me to turn, but that would prove he had no dick, so he’s going to speed up and close it. You fucking asswipe. I hope something heavy falls off a fucking bridge on you.
Fucking air conditioning. I’ve gotta, gotta, gotta get this piece of shit in to get looked at.
And it’s not even my trip! She’s the one wants the goddamn pork chops this evening. I am so fucking sick of fucking pork chops. If I see another pork chop this month, I swear to God I’m gonna have to divorce her and start fucking pigs or something. But is she the one sitting here waiting for some douche bag to cut her a break? No, she’s at home with the air conditioner and Reverend Sendmeabuck on TV. Okay — whoa. Hang on. Here we go, here we go… I think I can make this…
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