Fuck This Rude And Impatient Prick, Part I

There are just some things, some people, and things people do that piss me off.  Like, so piss me off that I think that people who do those things should die.  People who weave in and out of traffic -- mostly on cars but motorcyclists anger the fuck out of me too -- are one.  People who weave in and out of crowds are another.

I was at a United Match a few weeks ago, and Allianz Field is typically buzzing with people before the Match begins.  I usually hang back and pick my spots -- you know, where there are open pockets in a long train of lines going one way or the other.  No need to be a pushy dick, especially if you can't go anywhere.

But as I was waiting for my moment, this piece of shit comes from behind, darts into a little hole right in front of this couple, and starts slithering through the teeming crowd.  He didn't care about things like manners or space; no, this motherfucker just wanted to get to where he wanted to get to, and he wanted to go there now, goddammit.

And so that fucking red mist just descended in front of my eyes.  It's the same one that convinces me I have to catch up with a fucking driver that cut me off.  And so fuck finding a pocket -- I'll be bumping and pushing people down in order to get to this asshole.

And I kind of did.  Well, sort of.  He weaseled his way to the bathroom, a place I was going to go to, but, you know, I wasn't going to be a dick ...

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... and hey, I just got back from helping out Mother with something I think was a waste of time, and the mental energy I needed to expend was so depleting that I want to leave right now.  I'll finish this blog post up later.  I think.  Sorry.