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Kill 'Em All and Let Buddha Sort 'Em Out
Mar. 31st, 2007 05:10 pmI saw a bumper sticker for sale at the natural foods store that simply said, "Forgive." I truly believe this is the answer. I was about to buy it until I realized that if I put this on my car I won't be able to flip off all the bitches and jackasses who piss me off on the road. Not in good conscience, anyway.
My favorite revenge fantasy is Under Cover Litter Cop. I get paid to hang out in places like Yosemite National Park, pretending to be an ordinary tourist out for a stroll with my camera. When in reality I'm gathering indisputable, photographic evidence of your lazy ass dropping candy bar wrappers and empty water bottles right on the trail. When I catch you in the act, I whip out my gun and scream, "Get down on the ground Mother Fucker, right Fucking now!" I pistol whip anyone who gives me lip. Children shriek in terror as I arrest their parents. But they learn. I don't care if you're a stressed-out single Mother of sextuplets, you will not stash a dirty diaper in our National Parks. (All litter is gathered by my partner, David Beckham, and sent to a crime lab for analysis. We occasionally have hot sex under waterfalls, but that's beside the point.)
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Every three years or so in the spring, I apparently go into drag queen mode and buy some ultra-girly, pink sandals. I wanted something hot-pink with silver sparkles and pink, feathery fluff. I went to every major department store in this sorry-ass college town and couldn't find a damn thing this gay. I had to settle for something a bit less extravagant. I got a pedicure and had my toe nails painted hot-pink to match the sandals. When I came home, I told the boyfriend to worship my tootsies. He laughed in my face and ordered me to go buy him some ice-cream. I told him I was just at the grocery store and if he wants me to be his bitch I'm gonna need a hot-pink cell phone and a steady flow of cash. That quieted him down for a bit.
My favorite revenge fantasy is Under Cover Litter Cop. I get paid to hang out in places like Yosemite National Park, pretending to be an ordinary tourist out for a stroll with my camera. When in reality I'm gathering indisputable, photographic evidence of your lazy ass dropping candy bar wrappers and empty water bottles right on the trail. When I catch you in the act, I whip out my gun and scream, "Get down on the ground Mother Fucker, right Fucking now!" I pistol whip anyone who gives me lip. Children shriek in terror as I arrest their parents. But they learn. I don't care if you're a stressed-out single Mother of sextuplets, you will not stash a dirty diaper in our National Parks. (All litter is gathered by my partner, David Beckham, and sent to a crime lab for analysis. We occasionally have hot sex under waterfalls, but that's beside the point.)
******************************
Every three years or so in the spring, I apparently go into drag queen mode and buy some ultra-girly, pink sandals. I wanted something hot-pink with silver sparkles and pink, feathery fluff. I went to every major department store in this sorry-ass college town and couldn't find a damn thing this gay. I had to settle for something a bit less extravagant. I got a pedicure and had my toe nails painted hot-pink to match the sandals. When I came home, I told the boyfriend to worship my tootsies. He laughed in my face and ordered me to go buy him some ice-cream. I told him I was just at the grocery store and if he wants me to be his bitch I'm gonna need a hot-pink cell phone and a steady flow of cash. That quieted him down for a bit.
