I Ride.
I'd like to give a shout out to you Jabba the Hut status bitches sporting those awesome jean miniskirts, well hot damn ladies. I live on a fine line of sanity between a functional disorder of psychoneurosis and an innate absurd skew of religious nutjobs, minorities and Prius drivers. Combine a behavioral vice of "speak before think" and a character flaw of a one sided klan member, I take the cake of becoming the poster child for ridiculous. I banish words in my vocabulary; "hope", "faith" and "fairness" just to point out a few. My worst nightmare is a swift whirlwind of driving with a lead foot down Stockton Blvd. and slamming into a small child of minority jaywalking across the street to the 7-11 while Gloria Allread is standing nearby. Sometimes I might as well be a goddamn slaughterhog at the Sate Fair. I work for Coors and I'd really stand up and rejoice to the heavens above if ya'll stopped asking me for free beer, I bet Jesus himself would float down from his pedestal and crack open a cold one if I were to never hear that request again. Oh and you fucken dumb bitches, I love your "drama". I've got a personal vendetta with stupid frumpy drunks who wear slippers and ill fitting bras while they socialize. I used to want to be a nurse, force fed the glorious job opportunities and mega big bucks in the business until I realized that sticking a needle into the arm of a feeble child, stricken with cancer wasn't quite interesting enough... I'd rather get into the business of meat packing and cattle slaughter. I commit hate crimes. Is it wrong of me to complain about obese people with handicap stickers smacked onto their license plates? I think not. Holler at you and your interracial marriages.
girl.
When I've got the spare time and ambition, I also take pictures...
