Road Rage

I was just on the highway and this Spanish broad was coasting in front of me.  The bitch was driving entirely too slow for the fast lane, and to make matters worse she had a “Baby On Board” sticker in the back of her window.

I fucking loathe those shits.

Like, what the fuck does that shit even mean?

You have a child in your car; therefore, your life is worth more than other drivers? Attetntion drivers, please abstain from rear ending me, my child is safely asleep in the back seat?

Well, bitch I have a viable uterus on board, does that mean anything?

So to show my first sign of emotion today, I began to berate her elitist sticker with my horn.  Then I drove up beside her and flicked her non-highway-its rush hour bitch-I’m trying to get home-driving ass off.

Her response made me want to throw up, swallow and spit it on her windshield.  The bitch pointed to her grandson sitting in the front seat who was bobbing his head to a Reggaeton beat.  He was chewing on a loaf of French-bread (don't ask me why) and was not even wearing a seat belt.

Safety my ass!  That shit should say: Irresponsible Grandmother on Board!

I screamed at her to get a fucking life and take that sticker down.  Of course she couldn’t understand my suggestions and just extended her five teeth in a smile.

Oh, and don’t get me started on those “Expecting Mothers Only” parking spaces at the mall.

WHAT THE FUCK!!

What legislative body is enforcing this crap?  And how pregnant is pregnant to be deemed eligible?  What if I just let dude hit it raw, skeet inside of me, and am at my most fertile point in the month.

Can I park there too, sir?