Dear Miss Lady

Dear Miss Lady at the Gas Station:

Is there some occupational prerequisite that says you have to be a miserable bitch in order to work there? It's not my fault you're a morbidly obese retard with no fashion sense, so please don't take it out on me. Yeah, my id is expired. In order to get a new id, I would have to go stand in line at the DMV for 3 hours. I don't have time this week, didn't have time last week, and won't have time next week. However, that's none of your business and, if you want to make a big deal out of it, you should apply for a job at the fucking DMV. that way you can sit on your enormous ass all day long and stuff your face with whatever it is you stuff your face with (i'm guessing bologna and mayonaise by the way you smell). if you ever want to get laid by someone other than a sweaty budweiser soaked redneck, i would suggest you starve yourself for at LEAST two weeks and do something with your hair that doesn't scream " i went to see White Snake on my sweet 16." seriously, that cut never looked good, not in 1987 and certainly not now. i understand that approaching forty with all of your hopes and dreams in the toilet must be embittering. waking up in the morning only to see your idiot husband and a sagging, blotchy manatee in the mirror would do that to almost anyone.i'll take this last moment to thank you for supporting nascar and the KFC all these years, and for exerting all the authority and control your position grants you. stop eating and start drinking heavily because you really deserve it.
love-
the girl you wouldn't sell a pack of camels to.