Still Ill.

The lady beside me in traffic saw my George Bush air freshener with WTF printed across the top of his face in huge letters. She grinned and gave me a thumbs up. I studied her Escalade and her faded BUSH/CHENEY 04 sticker placidly before a look of horror crossed my face. No, I mouthed, shaking my head. But she'd driven away. The said look of horror remains on my face, much like victims in The Ring.

WTF, lady, WTF.

It won't stop raining. The other night I was in the Jack in the Box drive thru for upwards of 6 hours at 3 in the morning because my friend wanted a Bacon Cibatta Burger and 20 tacos and nothing else, apparently. By the time the girl took my order, my door had been agape for twenty minutes (window doesn't roll down) and I was so saturated with freezing rain that I could not even feel myself loathe life anymore. She asked what I wanted and I said "a fucking poncho."

I'm sure someone ejaculated in at least nineteen of his tacos. Oh well