I'm just going to come out and say it. If you are an old man, I need you to do a few things for me. The very first thing is pull your head out of your ass. Secondly, stop being an asshole. Thirdly, don't you dare scowl at me, you old, cranky son-of-a-bitch.
All I wanted to do was come home after Therapy Thursday. Sadly, I had to get gas first, since the little dinger light came on. As I'm trying to get to the gas station, some old guy in a jeep is sitting at the light in front of me. He's staring at me in his mirror with this nasty ass scowl on his face. I'm kind of annoyed, but whatever. The light turns and he speeds off like he is in the Daytona freaking 500. Well, Asshat, the speed limit is 30 and sadly the guy in front of you is actually abiding by the law. He then gets mad and passes the guy in the right hand lane. Mind you, he had his left blinker on. So, it isn't bad enough he thinks he's a freaking race car driver, but he doesn't know how to use his turn signal. A turn signal which now stays on for about a half mile. Damn that is irritating.
I finally get away from Scowly McGoo and get to the gas station. It's pretty busy and I had to circle around to get the spot I wanted. As I'm waiting for the dude at the pump to pull out, some cranky-ass old guy comes in and tries to steal my spot. After the week I've had, I double dog freaking dare you to take my gas pump Mother Trucker. I had nothing to lose and so took my rightful spot at the pump. Asshole. This is when injustice set in. I couldn't find my debit card anywhere. I tore my purse apart, nothing. Shit. I recently changed banks, so I still have my old debit card. I wonder if I left any money in there? I haven't officially closed it yet. I go through the motions and swipe my card. It authorizes the transaction. Whew! I'm on fumes here. The pump starts going and then promptly stops at $2 and some odd cents. I got .57 gallons of gas. Today is not my day. I get back in and hope that .57 gets me home.
I make my way to Marysville and try and merge onto the freeway. No one wants to let me over. I have my blinker on, I'm up to the speed limit and the Mother Trucker in the slow lane will not let me over. In my mirror we are making eye contact. I mouth to him, "You gonna let me over Mother Fucker?" He was going just fast enough to keep the front of his minivan even with the tailgate of my truck. I was running out of room so I finally just started coming over. Seriously? Are all men assholes today? So, now I'm in the slow lane trying to get to the middle lane. Each time I want to start over, somebody merges over from the fast lane. Dammit! After waiting and waiting for my chance, I get an opening. I put my blinker on, it's all clear, I start to edge over, as in two of my tires are in the lane. This old rat bastard in a beat up VW bug that is a myriad of colors and probably older than me, comes into my lane from the fast lane. I thought about moving back over and then I thought, "No, let him move over, he didn't even have his blinker on to indicate he wanted over, Fuck him." I could see his face, he was cussing me out. I didn't care. He moved back over to the fast lane and drove up next to me and stared over. The dude is like 150 years old and he is hunched over the steering wheel and he is giving me the furrowed brow and classic old man scowl. Well, I upped the ante with my own scowl and a string of verbal abuse that would make him and his sailor buddies blush. I'm sick of being pushed around by these asshats.
What the hell is the problem with old men today? Did they all just run out of their Viagra, Preparation-H, Fixodent and prune juice at the same time? Holy crap. Usually, it's a variety of asshats I encounter on the freeway, however today, it was every crotchety-assed fossil in the greater Snohomish County. Look here, Barney Fife, I'm trying to get home on fumes right now, give a girl a break, will ya?
Thankfully, I did manage to get home safe and sound. I walked through the door and promptly knocked the container of dog treats to the floor where they scattered everywhere. I've had it. Thursday is over. NO more. I do hope, however, that I can make it to the gas station tomorrow, so I can then get to the bank to get a new debit card. Thank goodness my 'ol man has some cash on him.
Well, that's a wrap. If you are old and out of Viagra or prune juice, stay off the road, okay? Middle-aged girls need to be able to travel in peace.
All I wanted to do was come home after Therapy Thursday. Sadly, I had to get gas first, since the little dinger light came on. As I'm trying to get to the gas station, some old guy in a jeep is sitting at the light in front of me. He's staring at me in his mirror with this nasty ass scowl on his face. I'm kind of annoyed, but whatever. The light turns and he speeds off like he is in the Daytona freaking 500. Well, Asshat, the speed limit is 30 and sadly the guy in front of you is actually abiding by the law. He then gets mad and passes the guy in the right hand lane. Mind you, he had his left blinker on. So, it isn't bad enough he thinks he's a freaking race car driver, but he doesn't know how to use his turn signal. A turn signal which now stays on for about a half mile. Damn that is irritating.
I finally get away from Scowly McGoo and get to the gas station. It's pretty busy and I had to circle around to get the spot I wanted. As I'm waiting for the dude at the pump to pull out, some cranky-ass old guy comes in and tries to steal my spot. After the week I've had, I double dog freaking dare you to take my gas pump Mother Trucker. I had nothing to lose and so took my rightful spot at the pump. Asshole. This is when injustice set in. I couldn't find my debit card anywhere. I tore my purse apart, nothing. Shit. I recently changed banks, so I still have my old debit card. I wonder if I left any money in there? I haven't officially closed it yet. I go through the motions and swipe my card. It authorizes the transaction. Whew! I'm on fumes here. The pump starts going and then promptly stops at $2 and some odd cents. I got .57 gallons of gas. Today is not my day. I get back in and hope that .57 gets me home.
I make my way to Marysville and try and merge onto the freeway. No one wants to let me over. I have my blinker on, I'm up to the speed limit and the Mother Trucker in the slow lane will not let me over. In my mirror we are making eye contact. I mouth to him, "You gonna let me over Mother Fucker?" He was going just fast enough to keep the front of his minivan even with the tailgate of my truck. I was running out of room so I finally just started coming over. Seriously? Are all men assholes today? So, now I'm in the slow lane trying to get to the middle lane. Each time I want to start over, somebody merges over from the fast lane. Dammit! After waiting and waiting for my chance, I get an opening. I put my blinker on, it's all clear, I start to edge over, as in two of my tires are in the lane. This old rat bastard in a beat up VW bug that is a myriad of colors and probably older than me, comes into my lane from the fast lane. I thought about moving back over and then I thought, "No, let him move over, he didn't even have his blinker on to indicate he wanted over, Fuck him." I could see his face, he was cussing me out. I didn't care. He moved back over to the fast lane and drove up next to me and stared over. The dude is like 150 years old and he is hunched over the steering wheel and he is giving me the furrowed brow and classic old man scowl. Well, I upped the ante with my own scowl and a string of verbal abuse that would make him and his sailor buddies blush. I'm sick of being pushed around by these asshats.
What the hell is the problem with old men today? Did they all just run out of their Viagra, Preparation-H, Fixodent and prune juice at the same time? Holy crap. Usually, it's a variety of asshats I encounter on the freeway, however today, it was every crotchety-assed fossil in the greater Snohomish County. Look here, Barney Fife, I'm trying to get home on fumes right now, give a girl a break, will ya?
Thankfully, I did manage to get home safe and sound. I walked through the door and promptly knocked the container of dog treats to the floor where they scattered everywhere. I've had it. Thursday is over. NO more. I do hope, however, that I can make it to the gas station tomorrow, so I can then get to the bank to get a new debit card. Thank goodness my 'ol man has some cash on him.
Well, that's a wrap. If you are old and out of Viagra or prune juice, stay off the road, okay? Middle-aged girls need to be able to travel in peace.
glad you called William "ol man"....LOL
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