Fuck
I've said it before and I'll say it again, Californians are the WORST DRIVERS EVARRRR!!! Get out of the fucking passing lane you fucking bobble headed mouth breathing waste of skin!!
And those fuckers with the humpy little GPS antennas on their fuck-off-mobiles!! Stop looking at the GPS screen and watch the road!! Yeah, that's right, the GPS just told you to fucking turn here didn't it?! That's why you just cut across three lanes of traffic, isn't it, you fucking fucktard! You mullet wearing snaggle toothed jizz bag!!
I cannot say fuck often enough to adequately express my frustration and there are just no other words that suffice. Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck fuckity fuck sticks! Fuck a duck! Fuck a doodle doo! Fucky Potter and the Prisoner of Azkafuck! Fuck me and fuck you! I suggest we go fuck in your mother's bed while eating crackers and petting a cat named Mittens, you fucking wall-eyed, slack jawed cretins! In-fucking-credible.
In happier news, today a young Mexican woman with a mustache gave me the best haircut I've had in years. Her hands were swift and sure. She wielded scissor and comb with expertise and confidence. It was invigorating and sensuous. Simultaneously gentle and harsh. The buzzing electric razor tickled my neck and then clawed at my ear lobe. I was intrigued. My skull resonated. Best of all? Not one single hair down the back of my shirt.
Meanwhile, across the parking lot, in the Taco del Mar, a man with a bushy iron grey beard ate his Super Burrito Platter. The unruly hairs of his beard exaggerated every movement of his mouth and jaw as he chewed. It was fascinating and grotesque. He talked with his mouth full, and he never once looked up at his wife while he ate, but only down at the beans and cheese and rice of his meal.
I don't think I've had a fish taco yet. Well, not at the Taco del Mar, anyway, if you git me! *wink wink nudge nudge*
And those fuckers with the humpy little GPS antennas on their fuck-off-mobiles!! Stop looking at the GPS screen and watch the road!! Yeah, that's right, the GPS just told you to fucking turn here didn't it?! That's why you just cut across three lanes of traffic, isn't it, you fucking fucktard! You mullet wearing snaggle toothed jizz bag!!
I cannot say fuck often enough to adequately express my frustration and there are just no other words that suffice. Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck fuckity fuck sticks! Fuck a duck! Fuck a doodle doo! Fucky Potter and the Prisoner of Azkafuck! Fuck me and fuck you! I suggest we go fuck in your mother's bed while eating crackers and petting a cat named Mittens, you fucking wall-eyed, slack jawed cretins! In-fucking-credible.
In happier news, today a young Mexican woman with a mustache gave me the best haircut I've had in years. Her hands were swift and sure. She wielded scissor and comb with expertise and confidence. It was invigorating and sensuous. Simultaneously gentle and harsh. The buzzing electric razor tickled my neck and then clawed at my ear lobe. I was intrigued. My skull resonated. Best of all? Not one single hair down the back of my shirt.
Meanwhile, across the parking lot, in the Taco del Mar, a man with a bushy iron grey beard ate his Super Burrito Platter. The unruly hairs of his beard exaggerated every movement of his mouth and jaw as he chewed. It was fascinating and grotesque. He talked with his mouth full, and he never once looked up at his wife while he ate, but only down at the beans and cheese and rice of his meal.
I don't think I've had a fish taco yet. Well, not at the Taco del Mar, anyway, if you git me! *wink wink nudge nudge*
Now that my friend is destined to become a classic.
I could never put up with that kind of crap.
That is the funniest thing I've seen in forEVAR!
If it's any consolation (which it isn't), Denver drivers are about as sucktastic.
fuck
Re: fuck