Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe this prick meant it as a joke. But this is shit I said to people when I was a kid. He isn't a kid, far from it. So I think this fucking asshole really said that it was my fault we almost ran into each other. What the fuck, man?! Who says this in polite company?
And I couldn't stop thinking about this dirty douchenozzle when I got back to work. How dare he say this was my fault? And the worst thing about this is I was afraid of what would happen the next time we meet. Is he going to try and say this again? If so, how am I going to defend myself?
"'Scuse you!" Seriously!
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I get home and My Fucking Father has invaded my privacy once again. This time I open up my bedroom door to see all the dirty clothes folded on my bed. There was a pile of clothes that were dirty, but they did not need to be cleaned now. But apparently My Fucking Father thought otherwise. More likely he has nothing to do now that he's retired and so he thought it best to fucking get into my room and wash my clothes. He probably did it wrong, using normal cycle for my gentle clothes and tumble-drying them on high when they need to be on low. Thanks, man. Seriously, what the fuck, man?!
The only saving grace: I'm glad I didn't put my jerk-off towel in the hamper. Then he would've known that I have a jerk-off towel. Asshole.
Now the downside: I have no time to put these clothes away. I wouldn't put it past him to hang them up in my closet as a "favor" to me. There he'll see all the shit I put in there so that he wouldn't see it in my bedroom.
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