This rant contains foul language. A lot. You’ve been warned.

It took me 2 hours and 20 minutes to drive to work this morning. I found out later that there was an accident on Long Island Expressway around Exit 49, and I was stuck somewhere between Exit 51 and 50. When I finally made my way out to Exit 50, this jerk in a beat-up Honda, who was driving on the shoulder trying get to the exit faster, kept poking his nose out in front of me as if HE had the right of way!!! Nobody, as far as I know, has ever accused me of being a wimpy driver. Indignant beyond reason at that point, I started talking to myself. Well, actually, I was talking to that dickhead, but he didn’t hear me, obviously.

I tell you right fucking here right fucking now, you bitch! I am NOT, I repeat, NOT a sissy weekend fucking driver who gets scared fuck to drive on fucking L.I.E. during rush hour. I’ve just been sitting the fuck here for almost a fucking  hour, and then stop and go at 0.000001 fucking mile per hour for another fucking hour. I’m already an hour fucking late for work and I’m not even half the fucking way there. And my left fucking sole burns like crazy  fuck because I drive a  fucking stick-shift. Oh, and by the fucking way, have you ever seen a fucking accident scene where a Jeep fucking Wrangler and an itty fucking bitty Japanese car were involved? Have you? Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

Yup, I beat him to wallow in his shame of having been defeated by a girl, and felt mighty proud to have finally made use out of that Dirty Harry line. Take that, bitch!