Hey, Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
You know what? I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
Look lady, When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not cheese. And I didn't really give a shit in the first place.
As usual, The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot,gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're just a huge asshole.
And stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason why I don't talk to people for 25 years. Because I don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: he's mowing my lawn.
No comments:
Post a Comment