I'm sitting in my living room, with all the doors and windows open, because it's frankly a beautiful day. The breeze is blowing across my face, the sun is high in the sky, my dog's asleep and I'm a million miles away from it all... and then some mouth-breather in a rolling barge pulls in front of the house three doors down and leans on their car horn. For a long time. They wait a few seconds, then they lean on the horn again. They get no response, so they pull their land-barge away from the house. I give them the nastiest glare allowed by law as they drive off.
Here's a thought: slowly lower the greasy Doritos from your lips, get your fat, lazy, American ass out of the muthafuggin' car, walk the five or ten meters to the front of the house and knock on the door. There, now, that didn't kill you, did it?
I suppose that in a few hours I will sober up. That’s such a sad
thought. I think I’ll have a few more drinks to prepare myself.