| |
[Oct. 20th, 2005|07:36 pm] |
The Top Signs You Suffer From Road Rage (Part I)
Teeth marks on steering wheel all the way down to the 5 and 7 o'clock positions; and You're NOT Christian Slater, Mike Tyson, or Marv Albert.
Left forearm bigger than Popeye's from giving the finger and aiming the Uzi.
In traffic, that throbbing vein in your forehead gets big enough to honk the horn on its own.
You can't resist firing off a few practice shots whenever you pass a Target store.
Two words: Feces slingshot
Sometimes women send mixed signals. For example, if you read every 11th letter in the restraining order my girlfriend faxed me, it clearly spells i-l-o-v-e-y-o-u, and then mostly gibberish, but then p-u-s-b-a-g, which I presume is her new pet name for me. She SO wants me, the coy minx.
(Bill Muse)
If you're ever in an elite paratrooper group, on a secret mission, and your parachute doesn't open, I don't think anyone would blame you if you scream.
(Keith Sanvidge) |
|
|
