So, I'm heading to work this morning, and I had to stop at a red light. I won't give the intersection, and this should keep my anonymity as this is sufficiently vague for all you London TERBites, because on my way to work I have to stop at every goddamned light that I come to. After waiting for the non-existent traffic that isn't crossing in front of me, I notice there are some cars approaching the intersection from my right, only to arrive just as the light turns red for them. Oh, the wonders of the London Stop-light Timing Committee. Anyways, that's the subject of another rant for some other day....
On with my story. The light turns green (for me) and I start press my accelerator gently, only to have to immediately slam on my brakes for some little teeny-bopper pimpin' in da hizzouse ass-daisy who is slowly skateboarding across the crosswalk in front of me. Fine, I say, I can wait for the little fucknugget to cross as I know how infuriating the stop-lights are in our fair city. But, naturally, I am now half in the crosswalk.
What does the little prick do? Well, I'll fucking tell you what he did. He slowed down. He sauntered. He got to the front of my car and hit the fucking hood, gave me the finger and said "Fuck you!"
Listen, you ass-munching example that would make even pro-lifers run to Dr. Morgantaler with a blank cheque.... YOU were in the fucking wrong there. The fucking red hand had stopped flashing, lo, about 6 hours ago! My fucking car would have sustained less damage if I had just depressed the GO! pedal and left you broken and bleeding for the 18 wheeler behind me to finish off. You purile sack of sheep shit. You probably like the Leafs too.
Next time I won't be the typical Canadian, whose only response is to gazed shockingly at the perpetrator, mutter "what the fuck" and drive off to inspect the damages in a private location. Thank god all you did was wipe a bit of the road grime which had adhered to my fucking hood, because next time I'll rip my oil-pan off as I drive over your base-ball cap-on-sideways little head. I'll put my radio antenna through that lip-ring and drive to Cambridge.
You insolent fuck.
On with my story. The light turns green (for me) and I start press my accelerator gently, only to have to immediately slam on my brakes for some little teeny-bopper pimpin' in da hizzouse ass-daisy who is slowly skateboarding across the crosswalk in front of me. Fine, I say, I can wait for the little fucknugget to cross as I know how infuriating the stop-lights are in our fair city. But, naturally, I am now half in the crosswalk.
What does the little prick do? Well, I'll fucking tell you what he did. He slowed down. He sauntered. He got to the front of my car and hit the fucking hood, gave me the finger and said "Fuck you!"
Listen, you ass-munching example that would make even pro-lifers run to Dr. Morgantaler with a blank cheque.... YOU were in the fucking wrong there. The fucking red hand had stopped flashing, lo, about 6 hours ago! My fucking car would have sustained less damage if I had just depressed the GO! pedal and left you broken and bleeding for the 18 wheeler behind me to finish off. You purile sack of sheep shit. You probably like the Leafs too.
Next time I won't be the typical Canadian, whose only response is to gazed shockingly at the perpetrator, mutter "what the fuck" and drive off to inspect the damages in a private location. Thank god all you did was wipe a bit of the road grime which had adhered to my fucking hood, because next time I'll rip my oil-pan off as I drive over your base-ball cap-on-sideways little head. I'll put my radio antenna through that lip-ring and drive to Cambridge.
You insolent fuck.
