Last night in LA, going for a walk because it's coolish and I need some exercise.
A wimminz on the corner a half-block away.
Full-throated screaming and ranting into the cellphone. As in, holding it in front of her and screaming full-throated at it, even bending over in the process. (Kinda fuckin' weird actually.)
Seems that she needed a ride from an eeeevil menz type. Maybe she asked and he declined. Maybe she went straight for the throat from the get-go. (Being a biased fucker, I tend to think the latter. Plus I can't see how a simple request could degenerate that badly to screaming and ranting.)
"I'm right on the fucking corner, you can't fucking miss me!"
Correct, you crazy bitch. I can't miss you at all. Nor will I ever. In fact, I thank my lucky stars that your crazed cuntiness is not in my life at all.
Holy Jesus, You gave Your life on the Cross to forgive this craziness? Sometimes, killing it with fire sounds like the better choice.
(Blasphemy, I know - I'm already going to Hell, so never mind.)
Thankfully: Not my circus, not my monkeys. Though my warped sense of humour gets a great deal of entertainment from watching this.
Gentlemen: grow some fucking balls. Preferably some nice big bastards, about the size of bowling balls and made of stainless steel.
Soyboys: keep it up. You can interact with these crazies for all eternity with our blessings. Just keep their craycray the fuck away from the more normal (and sane) people like us.
Getting ready to fly. - BPS