Splatter, bitches.

You see this man? What they aren't showing you, is that he was splattered 10 seconds later because he was an inattentive fuckwad. 

We all know, or at least we SHOULD know (hence if you've read my shit diligently), that I have an extreme loathing for bastards who ride their bicycles in the street on busy roads when there is a side walk right goddamn there. If I wasn't such a lazy sod, I'd link that very post I'm referencing, but instead I'm gonna play a cruel game of mentionzies and no givzies. Haha go findzies.

Eherm. Anyways, no really I'm not linking that shit.

Let's venture fourth into this post. Earlier today I was driving across town after picking up my boyfriend. I have deeply seeded demons over people riding in the fucking street when there is sidewalk right next to them and there is no bike lane. This is an inconvenience for all motorists as you are now a fucking meat popsicle parading around as another motorist when indeed you are not. You are an obstacle. 

So I'm driving and jackass to my right is riding his bike so precariously that it was so tempting not to acrue a manslaughter charge. Wouldn't have been a challenge or anything... if anything, if Xbox was tracking this achievement it would have read something like:

Yea, I'm totally referring to myself as Hitler, I'll even melt down the parts of the bike after I dispose of the bicyclist's body in my oven out back... And then I'll make that shit into an elaborate memorial monument dedicated to the victims of the Holo-Bike Serial Killer. 

... That whole scenario I just described... almost got weird and atrociously insulting at the expense of a historical atrocity. Hahaha, atrocious war crimes are atrocious.... 

Was that a hidden disclaimer that the Holocaust wasn't funny and only becomes funny when something unbearably shocking is said?

I don't think I've reached my point yet. My point is, that bicyclist who was fucking texting on his bike in traffic with his fucking life on the line so he could log into FaceBook and hit 'like' on some FAP's... almost took some Sweet & Sour sauce to the fuckin' grill.

But a stoplight foiled my plans... this dude looked like he was packin' for sure... didn't want to risk a glock in my face over some condiments. But damned if I didn't wanna sauce that man up... and hit him with my car. Just to see how glorious it would have been, I chucked the sauce out the window just to examine it's full potential... the spiral that beautiful golden colored sauce cast... I saw it in slow motion I swear... Would have looked nice all up in that tool's business. 

Why don't bicyclists have to obey the rules of the road? No- instead everyone else must adhere to them bastards. Stoplights? Pfft... more of a suggestion, all they have to do is yield. And yield they do... I've seen bicyclists dart recklessly out into an intersection when the opposing lane was turning. Did they heed the giant jeep cruising their way? Naw... brush it off and keep peddling, might cause an accident or two, but I'm good, I yielded. 

Hey, the next time you try bath salts, go eat the faces off bicyclists. No one will miss them and the cops might not try to shoot you off of them, so hey! eat up. 

I tell you, people are getting more stupid. The fact that I just tried to write "stupider" proves that. And it's not because I'm illiterate so shut the fuck up, it's because I hear it all the goddamn time from my illiterate friends. They've self proclaimed it, don't get all righteous. 

Just the other day in fact, my eyes.... were accosted, as mandated by a complete stranger with a huge jiggly center and a barely there towel dress on. 

Let me set the scene for you. I'm a little... standoffish. If you make eye contact with me in public or attempt to develop some form of camaraderie with me based off a common interest in some ridiculous social situation... I will shun you. So I pull into a Jackson's to reup me some cigarettes. I pulled up next to two people in a V-bug... they were either together or were mother and son.. Can never tell these days and the fact that those are the two dynamics I assumed... something is either wrong with my perception of them... or they have a fucked up dynamic that could mirror that of Oedipus.. 

I digress.

Anyways, chick tries to make eye contact with me and I immediately turn my back on her. So little miss lolita over to my right topples out of her massively lifted truck... struggling to even fall out of this thing, mind you, in this flimsy ass t-shirt fabric dress that barely went passed her ass cheeks. As I'm examining this odd lump of a woman, she goes to open the door to the Jackson's... when my friend Breezes lifted her damned dress and showed me the surprise of my life. Chick doesn't like underwear... I mean really doesn't like underwear. Even to the point of risking public humiliation by stepping out of the house in a fucking bend-me-over-and-rape-me-like-a-dirty-cholla t-shirt dress. 

The insanely obnoxious, and contagious, laughter.. yea that was me. The camaraderie the woman in the V-bug had tried to establish earlier was set in fucking stone. We had both been demoralized by that which should never be seen, and we took that shit like champs. Whereas earlier we had given each other the eye, one woman vying for the other's gaze so she can size her up while slowly digesting how attractive she is only to use it to judge her mercilessly in her mind... Whoa... girl information that slipped out in a word-vomit like fashion... gentlemen, what I just gave you is a weapon. Can't see it? Take a seat mother fucker and learn some lessons in observation. 

So yea, lady I had mad dogged and shunned earlier, ended up sharing a beautiful moment with me so I could share this story on the internets. And you thought this would end with the punch line really being about some fat chick's random ass shot rather than my fluff story of bonds we develop with strangers in traumatic social settings. Awww. 

Foiled.