On the connector. I don’t know, maybe you were fighting with your Eagle-Eye Cherry looking boyfriend and just looking for anybody to go totally menstrual on, but fucking with me and The Rumbler is not a good idea. You can give me the bird, ride your brakes to get my attention, and scream at me as you illegally change lanes all you want. The fact that your man obviously couldn’t care less about me and was actually covering his face as you popped a blood vessel in my direction assures me that I didn’t do anything wrong, and you are a crazy bitch. But I knew that already, because I’m me, and you’re a chick driving a car. Jeez, I sound like Smoove.

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 25th, 2005 at 9:53 pm and is filed under My Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.