im coming home from st pete pimpin out in the vulva singing to
myself because the radios busted. i pull off of i-75 onto sr 60
in brandon and at the light between the mall and regency i drag
the vulva to a stop and then a little hf pulls up next to me
kinda revvin the engine a little. i look over and kind of nod.
then theres a homey in a corolla to my right with the shoulder
way up in the air steering with the forearm slouched down in
the seat and hes giving me the stare. two lanes to my left
theres a bmw 325 and the hf is apparently tryign to goad him
into the race as well.
the other traffics light goes yellow and i think to myself
allllright you pukkas feel the wrath of my dads wheeled
swedish brick.
the light changes and i mash the throttle. the wagon groans in
agony shaking violently ( i didnt know automatic trannys could
slip like that!) and proceeds to slowly painfully lurch forward.
the hf totally fucked something up hes 10 cars back before i
hit 40mph and the corolla was a good 4 cars back. the 325 i
dont think he was racing but i was way ahead of him too.
i basked in the glory that is whooping ass and continue to
saunter my way home singing to myself. . .

 

nah. last night i was hitting some cyndi lauper and paula abdul
medleys.