Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Stupid Ticket Giver Man.

I had been jotting down my thoughts and funny stories while sitting on my bed when I looked up at the mirror to look at myself, but instead of seeing myself, I saw the street sweeping money making device zoom past my house. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I ran outside. The stupid ticket giving truck driver man pulled up to my car.

The dude shuffled out of his car door."Is it too late?!" I spurted out as soon as his feet touched the ground. I was running up to the curb. I looked at his face. FRICK MY LIFE! why is it always HIM now?! It was the assbutt that gives tickets like it's his life. Oh wait, it IS his life. He can't give anyone a break. Ever.

He looked at me and said "yep, the truck went by already." What that really means is "YOU FAIL, and I WON AGAIN LOSER GIRL! FIFTH TIME THIS YEAR! yep! When are you going to stop sucking at life?!" But I know better. He is thinking all of this because I don't give street sweeping ticket givers the time of day. If I had balls I would say something about balls (if you know what I mean) to him. But I don't. So instead, I'll just give him the shocker- BOTH WAYS MOTHER F! (if you know what I mean).

I walked away waving the symbol of defiance by my side and ARRRGGGING loud enough for everyone to hear. I then proceeded to open the front door of my home and slam it as hard as possible. I hate that man. Next time he comes around I'm going to put thumb tacks in the street so he gets a flat tire. The street sweeper mobile will go by and I will bolt in the street and sprinkle them everywhere. BAM! Flat tires. I will then sit outside on my wall and smile as he enters DOOM TOWN. I have no mercy for a-holes. Especially his type. I mean, doesn't he know that I NEVER get tickets, ever?! ...except for the street sweeping variety.

If only he knew the DOOM he was bringing upon himself by continuing to type into that ticket giving doohickey thing-a-ma-jiggy.
Karma can be a biotch.

....I'm not going to actually put thumb tacks in the street. But I will sit outside and smile at him the next time he drives by. It will freak him out. Make him paranoid. Give him nightmares. I bet my god will get him back. Make him suffer somehow.

I bet tomorrow he's going to wake up and have cereal. A seemingly good breakfast idea. That is, until he realizes that he used sour milk and has the squirts for the next couple of hours. Yes, yes. That will probably happen. Then something else will happen that is doubly as bad. Until the doom is worked off. I mean, he gave me a ticket. He deserves it.

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