I have decided that with Friday being the end of the week, it deserves a blog post. Introducing the weekly "Things I f*cking hate!!!"
Today's post is brought to you by the letter "B".
Now, I live in one of the most biker friendly cities in the world. We have bike paths, bike parades, naked bike parades, bike boxes (dumbest waste of green paint EVA!) and bike maps. We have the "Oregon 10 foot rule", our Mayor rides his freaking Schwin to work and our hospital has more Bicycle Valet space than Patient Valet parking available. With all of these fabulous reasons to love bikes and their doting riders who couldn't? Me. That's who.
Let's start with the facts. You weigh 95.7 pounds on your all vegan diet and your bike weighs 20lbs.
95.7 + 20= WAY less than my 5300 lbs., gas guzzling soccer mom of a vehicle! Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. The. Way.
I am not actively looking to play "bowling for bikers", truely I am not, but for goddamnitchristssake common sense tells us...you big, me small so scatter like Wile E. mutha fuckin' Coyote with a stick of dynamite up his ass when you are blocking the ENTIRE road.
Next: Been on Hawthorne Blvd. lately? Now these bikers have balls, and for that they have my respect. This street is so small even the dreadlocks get tangled when walking by one another yet here comes this broad in a full floor length skirt, leg hair for miles and a messenger bag filled with groceries from Whole Foods and the co-op down the way. One hand maintains directionals on the bike handle bars while the other balances a beautiful pesticide free flower arrangement that she is probably going to make salad out of. Now as frusterating as this is to get stuck behind going 6 MPH, nothing is more frustrating than getting stuck behind this:
If the long leg-haired hippy can travel with her organic groceries why Why WHY is it necessary for you to look like this. There is NOTHING flattering about shoving your cock between you legs and certainly isn't needed unless you were in the movie Silence of the Lambs!
To recap...things I hate. Bikers. Stop yelling at us, stop dressing like d-bags, obey the fucking traffic laws that you spout out in a electrolyte-less fervor and get the fuck over, bitches. I've got a V8 and places to be.
