When I, as a licensed driver of a motor vehicle, give you permission to cross the street in front of my car, you'd damn fucking well better make a God damned effort to do it in a timely fashion. Don't you dare stroll like it's your God-given right. Move your fat fucking ass now, you filthy pig! Don't dawdle (in your case, waddle) and check your e-mail on your faggoty-assed PDA. Just cross the street quickly, okay? Okay, thank you. You fat tub of useless shit.
(Note: this is not the fat fucking whore who
lumbered across the street this morning but
it is a close facsimile)
Not too faggoty.
1 comment:
If I have to tell you one more time to stop stalking my dad, I am going to have to get the Police involved.
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