I've downed about 9 beers so far this evening, and I'm in a pissy mood, so here is a "fuck you" list I've created. Blow me. No, seriously, I live at 322 North Avenue in the great borough of Millvale, Pittsburgh, PA. Come the fuck over and fellate me!
On with the show....
Pittsburgh "rock" radio. Everyday on my commute, I try to listen to these epic douche bags banter on about Sidney Crosby, internet videos, and/or some shit promotion at some shit bar. The only thing that stops me from crashing my car into a bridge support is the fact that I do not own it, and the cost of paying it off would force my parents to give me a very spartan funeral indeed. Everyone would say "I always kinda thought he'd kill himself one day..." and then go to a Polish banquet hall for lunch, served family style. My ghost would eat green beans, mashed potatoes, some salad, and dinner rolls.
Chicago Cubs fans. This should be inherently self-explanatory, but for some reason, liking the Cubs continues to be trendy and hip. It crosses all social, racial, and state boundaries. Fucking inexplicable. It's a shitty stadium, run by shit people, for the sole purpose of making money. Dumbasses, each and every non-Northside Native Cub fan. While I'm at it, FUCK WRIGLEYVILLE(except for the Metro, and a few other "alternative" places.)
FUCK YOU, Rollingstone Magazine! ARRGHH!!! Print something other than information about Pete Wentz and Barack Obama. Put a fucking MUSICIAN ON THE COVER! One who writes their own shit, doesn't act, and abuses substances of questionable nature! GODDAMNIT!!! ARGH.
Must get drunker. I have to work in the morning.-BK
PS- Me and the Deftones, we're cool. Ultra cool.
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