April 5, 2009

• A Bilingual Post

   

      Dear all of you old farts that drive around in you fucking Cadillacs who left your house 3 hours early to make it on time for Bingo night,

      I am not a geezer, and as such, I still go to work, I still have a relatively busy schedule, and I still have most of my teeth.  As such, I don’t exactly fit into the time slots that you force me into by driving AT LEAST 20 miles below the speed limit in these one lane roads that we unfortunately co-inhabit.  In short, IF YOU DON’T HAUL YOUR PRUNY ASSES OUT OF THE WAY, MY PLUMP AND SMOOTH ASS WILL BE LATE TO WORK.  Thank you.

   

      Dear kindly chaps of a more experienced age who so skillfully manipulate your automobiles and who practice extreme forethought by leaving to your festive gatherings with plenty of time to spare.

      I fear that I lack the refinement and distinction that you have exhibited throughout the lengthy course of your existence.  I dare say that I am not yet worthy of retirement nor the more leisurely itinerary that has been graced upon yourselves, additionally my inner jaws are still well adorned.  Be as it is, I often find myself in the rear of your carriages during which events I may not have left such an open window prior to my arrival at my scheduled destination as to allow for the safe practice of carrying about in a manner that ranges somewhere below the maximum allotment.  Although I could easily place the finger upon the poor judgement of the department of transportation for not increasing the capacity of the roads upon which we are both sharing, I instead would simply implore that you might consider to expedite thineselves so that I may stand an increased chance of arriving in good accord at the correct hour of the day to my current place of employment.  I am genuinely gracious for your concern.

   

   

      Until next time, good luck with life.

  • 9:22 pm
  • 20 Comments