Rant, Pure, No Baby Laxitive

Personal Bits

Hey fucking neighbours who think it’s ok to have 3-4 friends over at 3 fucking a fucking m on a fucking Monday morning. What. The. Fuck? You may have shift work jobs (how nice for you) but where do you get off thinking it’s party time for the entire apartment building at that hour? Eat hot fuck!

Yo Fucked Weather. Fuck you dismal January. Save it for February and stop being so crappy.

Hey fucktard on the subway sitting across two seats with your bag and big puffy coat during fucking rush hour. Fuck yourself raw.

Hey smoking fuck. Smoke somewhere else. Third moon of Jupiter is good with me. Because no matter what time I venture out onto the sidewalks, I have to walk in your smoke-wake cloud. I hope they make smoking illegal, you inconsiderate twit.

Hey Craigslist troll. Fuck you for responding to my ad by bombarding me with dickless questions that you could have answered yourself by taking two seconds and actually reading the ad. No I won’t knock a couple bucks off it just because you asked. Give me a reason. It’s called negotiation, twit-wit.

Hey Rogers. Oh fuck where do I start? How about FUCK YOU, FLABBY FUCK FUCKERS! Just because you’re greedy and you smell like fuck. Get the fucking iPhone to Canada and stop being circle-jerk groupies.

*burp*

That’s better.

8 thoughts on “Rant, Pure, No Baby Laxitive

  1. Pingback: Jerk Spot » Blog Archive » What’s That Banging?

  2. Lew

    You know how many elementary school firewalls you just sent into hyper-lockdown-mode with that post? I’m bettin’ plenty.

    Little fuckers don’t need to read good fucking editorials anyway. Fuck them.

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