Oh, why you gonna honk at me for slowing down just a little bit before I turn? There is no one in the left lane, so go the hell around. My signal is on, whore pants. Do you realize the situation with the cake? I would think that you do not. Respect my cake. You have no idea how fragile it is. I would hate to arrive at my destination and find the fruit topping all messed up to one side like cheese on a tilted pizza. Oh no, that is not how it’s going to be. Screw you, you troop-supporting insensate buffoon. I am sorry your SUV is so hard to maneuver that you cannot handle swinging into the other empty lane. My cake will triumph.
Shake it off, shake it off. I lead a charmed life, what with the having most of my original teeth and pooping every day. Although I will never know everything there is to know. I haven’t even tried all the vegetables in the produce section. I only know one good recipe that uses wheat germ. What if I am actually supposed to be married to a professor in Prague? I am sure I am not living in the best possible place. Where is that place? I am happy, but the whole world looms. Books jump off the shelf and mock me for not finishing them. Just you wait, SUV driving slam pig, I will up and move to a small community in the Amazon. The natives will befriend me, and I will teach them rudimentary farming techniques and how to perform a tracheotomy with a pen. They have never seen a pen before. We live happily ever after in our easy breezy loin cloths.