I spent most of the weekend laid up with a hypertensive headache. Since there wasn’t much I could really do feeling like someone had clamped a vice around my skull, I spent a lot of time pondering. For one thing, why is it that whenever I park my car at the supermarket someone leaves a cart right next to it? Funk dat.
Whenever I go to the pharmacy someone is always standing way behind the person in front of them in line? Move up. Funk dat.
Any time my phone rings it’s someone asking about my extended warranty. Look here skeezix, I got something you can extend right here. Funk dat.
The delivery driver who always walks across my patio. Get outta here with that box. Go around, man! Funk dat.
The bearded man in the oversized pickup truck who tailgates me for six miles and that furiously passes me on a two lane, all the while glaring at me in a barely-controlled rage. Funk dat. If me doing 40 in a 35 zone makes you that angry you really need some kind of anger management or something, bub.
