the bastards. my first B’s game in forever and a year, and they had to lose. in the shoot-out no less.
god damn it.
I don’t even want to talk about it anymore.
also: fuck gordon. fuck him and his fucking 25-year-old prickness. If I could just knock him over the head with a baseball bat, I’d be happy.
and fuck the disgusting girls who sat in front of me and asked me to STOP CHEERING during the game, because apparently my enthusiasm for the hockey game was disrupting their gorging. Like it was fun for me to watch them as they shoveled their fat faces with every kind of disgusting greasy nasty food the garden offered. no joke, in the course of 2 hours I saw them each eat two giant pieces of pizza loaded with 300 kinds of meat, hot dogs, french fries, chicken fingers, pretzels AND soda. bet it was diet soda, too. god they pissed me off.
also, fuck the train.
and fuck the assholes who throw their trash anywhere they please.
you know, just fuck everyone. yeah. fuck everyone.
except for you. yes, you, over there. you, I like. you I want to actually fuck. in the sexual connotation of the word. whereas the previous “fucks” were used in the “I hate you and I wish you were dead” kind of way.
- Live From The Field
- You burned my heart with a flickering torch