Reining in the EstrogenOkay, I've regained some semblance of control, and I promise there will be no mention of cute little you-know-who this time around.
Instead, let's get back to what I do best... judging people and bitching.
So the other day, I was at the gas station, filling my trusty little Toyota with overpriced fuel. It was busy at Arco. I was in an inside, tandem-style lane, boxed in between a luxury car driven by a B5 (bleached, botoxed, big-boobed bimbo) ahead of me and a normal guy with an average vehicle waiting behind me. The bimbo and I both finished filling our cars at the same time, returning the hose/nozzle back to the pump almost simultaneously. So imagine my horror when I realized that, even though she picked her belly-button lint while her car was fueling, now she decided to start washing her windows. My cold black heart filled instantly with rage. Remember I'm completely locked in, I can't move. I looked back at the guy behind me who shook his head in disbelief, and graciously backed up so that I could get out.
I wanted to kiss him but not as much as I wanted to bash her over-processed face in with a shovel.