i wish i had some markers and big sheets of drawing paper so i could draw hamburgers and me floating in space with hamburgers around me.
ps zero people win a postcard because your rage stories were long-winded. i wanted like a tiny paragraph, consisting of no more than three lines in length describing a situation where you are so mad you have a brain aneurysm.
for example i told a squeegee dude to FUCK OFF yesterday afternoon at front street on our way out of the city and he said WELL FUCK YOU and walked away. he just started washing the windshield and i got nervous he might fuck up fil’s ride and i was kinda hoping he would cos at the moment i was full-on seeing red and i got the rageahol butterflies in stomache feeling but i think he knew i was a crazzy biatch so he just went away.
LUCKY FOR HIM REEEAAAWRgh! i was looking forward to punching his facial piercings off though.
