Thug Life

(originally posted 12/5/2009)

I should’ve taken a picture, it was too funny.  But to the person who had the large, metallic car plaque that said “Thug Life” on the back of his/her Ford Contour at the Chick-Fil-A, cheers.  I see you’re living the thug life.  You know, in your Ford Contour at Chick-Fil-A.  I know tons of thugs who spend Saturday afternoon in a Chick-Fil-A that, at the time, was filled with a show choir in full dress (the boys wore tux pants, white shirts and bow ties while the girls were in tea length, spaghetti strap red sequined gowns) singing Christmas carols. If that doesn’t scream thug life, well, then I don’t know what thug life is.

Also, to the girls who attend my local high school, the word is spelled “d-o-u-c-h-e”.  If you’re going to insult people by writing about them on the bathroom stalls, spell it right.  There’s no “s” in douche.

And finally, to you, Mr. Pepsi vending machine in the locker room, you stole my $1.50! Boo.  And then I decided that it was creepy to be in a dark locker room by myself.  Isn’t that a scene in every horror movie that’s ever had a scene in a school?  The lone girl in the dark, empty locker room.  And, no, I don’t have an overactive imagination! So, I decided against beating up the pepsi machine and found another one in a well lit, populated hallway.  And the only thing it had was that gross mango melon Sobe lifewater. I should’ve quit when the first machine ate my money.


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