To the young woman in the Honda Civic behind me on the way into work this morning:
I like the rear bumper of my truck right where it is, thank you very much. I know you feel that your schedule (and probably every aspect of your life) is more important than anyone else's, but this does not (thanks to Journey for pointing out the fact that I missed a very important word here!) give you the right to tailgate me at 45 mph. A hint for you, young lady, if you're close enough I can't see your headlights, you're too damn close! Yes, I know that traffic was bad, what with the accident about a mile and a half back and all, but really. (By the way, did you notice the fact that said accident was probably caused by someone tailgating? No? I guess you were too busy thinking about yourself.) Do you really think that riding my bumper is going to make me go faster? If anything, I'm going to slow down and pace someone in the other lane just to piss you off. And when I do finally let you get by, please make sure that you actually get over into the other lane before you floor it. Like I said, I'm quite happy with the placement and condition of my bumper and I don't need you to help me adjust it.
If I haven't made myself perfectly clear by now, here's something I know you'll be able to understand: FUCK OFF AND DIE, BITCH!
2 comments:
*snickers helplessly, hugs sympathetically, and offers a "not" to follow the "does" in your second sentence*
See, this is why it's good to be engaged to an English major! Thanks, babe!
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