I got an interview set up for 1.30 tomorrow at Jamba Juice.
This old coloured motherfucker in a black Volvo played the asshole and tested my temper. I was struggling with something in my car. My car door was open [this was NECESSARY, the cake box that I bought for my brother's birthday today had collapsed and icing was getting everywhere, including my dry-clean-only brocade jacket]. He pulled into the space diagonal to me, and decided that it was necessary to pull right next to me, just because the space was empty. He disregarded my struggle and gave me an impatient look, like, "Shut your door, white bitch."
I never say NIGGER in a mean way, but today I wanted to scream it at that asshole and kick him until he died. But that would conjure bad karma. Oh well. That asshole better get his. And he better thank his lucky stars I didn't fuck up his car while he was in the store.
Now I know I am me again. Classic Katie anger.
People like him are the reason I hate living.
I hate THE living.
Fuck him until the cows come home, with a cactus, followed by a grapefruit, a chainsaw, a pineapple, and a sewing machine.
Fucking cocksucker motherfucker bitch.