Friday, August 7, 2009

Fuck you Friday

I have had pretty much the same commute to work for 4 years now. It gets to a point where you recognize some of the cars that roll with you every day. You tend to know who is going to cut you off, who will let you in, and who you can roll with when traffic clears up enough to give you a straight shot to the next bottleneck. One of the vehicles I have come to recognize is an SUV from the Pulaski County Sheriff’s office. He’s a dick. Fo’ real. I don’t know what makes him think he can police the entire rush hour mob on his way to work, but that shithead sure does try. This morning, he was in the lane beside me and I was in front of another SUV. We were rolling about 68 in a 60. He comes up beside me and “boops” his siren! YES! On the interstate. He knows enough to know he can’t pull me over (I mean, he’s not even a patrol car! He’s like, a detective or something. I don’t think he even has a radar) but he still has something big enough up his ass to where he thinks he needs to be my daddy. He does the same thing to the SUV behind me. After another mile or so, the other SUV ends up beside me. The driver gets my attention and points at the sheriff’s vehicle and raises his hands in the air, as if to say, “did he just BOOP at us? O-M-G! What a fucker!” I nod my head back, mouthing the words “Ye-us! I know!!” We laugh, and roll on. So, consider this Fuck You Friday, Sheriff. You and your booping can kiss my ass.

No comments:

Post a Comment