JAson looks up to the sky and just shakes head. "Ah come on now, what the fuck?" I am asking no one in particular "what the fuck" is going on. I just like the sound of the word and the day has been so blatantly stacked against me "What the fuck?" is the only sentence that adequately describes what is going on.
If the word "Fuck" was replaced by the word "Hippo" things would be funnier.
I had a bad show. This happens more often than not. I should have that checked out. So I decide I am going to take a cab home. Get home fast plant myself in front of a box of cheezits and video game away the nights worries.
Problem: There is a huge line of tourists waiting for cabs.
OK. I will just take the bus. Pop in my Iignore head phones and pretend I am Huey Lewis.
Problem: I just miss the bus and the happiness that is the F-line won't be back till I grow a Brawny man beard.
Finesicle, I will walk. 30 minute walk, 30 minutes of a clear head, I can still pretend I am Huey Lewis.
Problem: Wooooo!! Splat!!! A rouge Honda Civic that I am sure smelled of Hugo Boss and copious amounts of hair gel whizzes past and out the window comes a hurled sandwich.
"Ah come on now, What the fuck!" Who throws a sandwich?! At least hit me with a snake filled with some batteries. Shakes fist at no one in particular.
Hippo this day.
1 comment:
oh poor jason
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