Oh, yay. Let the redneck/soccer mom community rejoyce. I was hoping the higher cost of fuel would get some of these beasts off the road. Thanks, GM.
The bachlor redneck can continue riding around Cherryville, hauling a solitary hay bale, tailgating everyone in sight while he packs an entire can of Copenhagen fine cut (Skoal is for women and pussies, he'll tell you as much) into his cheek and blares Trace Adkins "Dangerous Man", content in the knowledge that he's helping the environment. Hell, with the money he's saved in gas, he can afford those Rodeo tickets or that Coy pond and barb wire tatoo he's been wanting. With amazing accuracy and a deft flick of the wrist the beer can exits the sliding cab window takes one bounce in the bed and then is caught by the wind and my Wife, behind him in our new car, with equal skill, navigates the vehicle in a manner that allows the can to remove an impressive amount of paint from the hood's leading edge.
350 lb "Maw Maw" Can continue to roll to whatever drive thru I'm currently in to feed the rest of her overweight brood. Never mind that I, and the rest of Planet Earth is in line for a quick meal, bitch, you go ahead and place your order, taking 20 minutes to correct the poor kid taking an order that's nearly as large as your ass. "No. I said VANILLA Diet Coke. And the third order of six burgers I don't want pickels on them. And no onions. Do you have relish?" Upon recieving her order and many curses and death wishes from me and the rest of the population, she'll move exactly ONE HALF of a car length forward and begin to paw through the bag. Back up lights come on,. Myself and the rest of the line has already moved forward. I blow the horn, scaring the window person into dropping something. A tater tot bag hits the ground with a soft thud and the little grease sponges roll everywhere. She tries to get out, but is too close to the wall for her door to open. She cranes her head around and blubbers, "BACK UP!!!"
Thanks, GM.
It's spring break. Have you even noticed how much easier it is to get to work?
__________________
" Some days the man and machine connection is beyond dispute. On these magic days the machine responds almost in unison with the driver's mind. As a driver this is the moment of being, the time in life when time itself holds as frozen as the shaded grass. You feel no tick of the clock, no mortality of life, no passing of years, no fear of life. You know only the moment, the feeling and the response ...."
Oh, yay. Let the redneck/soccer mom community rejoyce. I was hoping the higher cost of fuel would get some of these beasts off the road. Thanks, GM.
The bachlor redneck can continue riding around Cherryville, hauling a solitary hay bale, tailgating everyone in sight while he packs an entire can of Copenhagen fine cut (Skoal is for women and pussies, he'll tell you as much) into his cheek and blares Trace Adkins "Dangerous Man", content in the knowledge that he's helping the environment. Hell, with the money he's saved in gas, he can afford those Rodeo tickets or that Coy pond and barb wire tatoo he's been wanting. With amazing accuracy and a deft flick of the wrist the beer can exits the sliding cab window takes one bounce in the bed and then is caught by the wind and my Wife, behind him in our new car, with equal skill, navigates the vehicle in a manner that allows the can to remove an impressive amount of paint from the hood's leading edge.
350 lb "Maw Maw" Can continue to roll to whatever drive thru I'm currently in to feed the rest of her overweight brood. Never mind that I, and the rest of Planet Earth is in line for a quick meal, bitch, you go ahead and place your order, taking 20 minutes to correct the poor kid taking an order that's nearly as large as your ass. "No. I said VANILLA Diet Coke. And the third order of six burgers I don't want pickels on them. And no onions. Do you have relish?" Upon recieving her order and many curses and death wishes from me and the rest of the population, she'll move exactly ONE HALF of a car length forward and begin to paw through the bag. Back up lights come on,. Myself and the rest of the line has already moved forward. I blow the horn, scaring the window person into dropping something. A tater tot bag hits the ground with a soft thud and the little grease sponges roll everywhere. She tries to get out, but is too close to the wall for her door to open. She cranes her head around and blubbers, "BACK UP!!!"
Thanks, GM.
It's spring break. Have you even noticed how much easier it is to get to work?
HAHAHAHAAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
I've never read such brutal criticism in my life! LMAO!! Cool points to you!
Linear Mode
