Friday, August 19, 2005

Language Arts. Or, the art of my foul language.

I've come to realize that I say the eff word a lot, and think it even more. Take this morning, for example. I'm walking along the sidewalk, and I see a man come out of a garage door opening on the side of a building. I keep walking. He sees me coming. He just watches me, while I continue on my path. Down the sidewalk. The sidewalk that runs parallel to the building. The building with that garage door. I'm walking in front of said garage door, when I look over to see a forklift coming right at me, full speed. The guy driving the forklift honks at me, after I'm out of the way. I gave the first guy a dirty look, but I don't think it had much affect on account of my sexy sunglasses. That's alright...what I was thinking...what I was really thinking behind that dirty look which was behind the sexy sunglasses was, "Thank you, Sir. Thank you for telling me there was a fucking tractor coming at me all ready to sever my shit off. Christ."

This is just one example of why I'm certain to see all of my wonderful, yet heathen friends in the afterlife.


Peter said...

I guess you're going to have to watch your fucking language.

Kim said...

Hahaha! Peter, you're f'ing awesome!

Peter said...

Am I sofa king awesome?