To The Redneck
Life is good, baby. We’re some of the lucky ones.
To Jimmie Johnson
I know you’re probably a nice guy. I’m sure you’re probably a good driver. Unfortunately, I hate to see you win races. Know why? I have yet to see you whoop and holler when you win. I have yet to see you grinning from ear to ear. Reserve isn’t going to win you fans. And winning due to technicalities isn’t either. Now, you can’t help that, but acknowledging it might help. Now that NASCAR has done away with the spoiler, or as the Redneck likes to call it, “The Jimmie Johnson Wing”, I notice winning isn’t so damn easy for you. Frankly, I’d have more sympathy for you if you RACED people.
To Asshole Operator
Your new name. Let me see if I can spell this out for you. I was hired to do the job you’d like to do. Only you only wanted to PART of what I do. No, every office isn’t the same. No, I’m not going to pass the buck. I’d like to, but it would seem like you were right. So, let me make this clear. Shut.The.Fuck.Up.
Seriously. I don’t like you. At. All. You have a name on my blog and that means I’ll be handing your ass to you online regularly. Lucky you.
So, two things I was wrong about. One, Annabel Joseph’s “Comfort Object”. You can read me eating crow HERE.
Two, the Cub Scout Bitch. Though she is STILL a bitch, I like her. I’d rather have her here bitching at me than lose her. Does that make me a masochist? Probably.
Five more days. Five more days. Five more days.
To The Redneck