Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Blowing a tire... well, blows.

It took 2.4 of my family members to come rescue me at the local mall and change my tire after I rammed it (yes RAMMED it) into the gayest cobblestone median strip in the entire world. Did I know it was there? Oh yea. Do I pass it every night and hit it 26 out of 27 times? Yep. Was tonight the night my tire decided ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, I CAN'T WORK FOR THIS BISCH ANYMORE? Yyyyyeeep. Yessir. Yeperoni.

I am going to bed now.

Am I changing out of my grungy pavement encrusted pants and washing my luge-nutty hands? Nope.

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