Alright. So one night I was at home on a bunch of molly, rollin’ my dick off and just creepin around the house (probably on like a Wednesday night or somethin) and I come BUSTIN’ in the bedroom and Kels is in there folding laundry and I’m like “I GOT IT BABE” and she says “what”
and I said “I FUCKIN GOT IT- If I ever had a band, I’d call it ROAD RAGE!” and she said “oh yeah?” and I said yeah “YEAH, cuz it would be FAST, and LOUD, and DANGEROUS & just like DUMB as FUCK ya
know?? Cuz like everybody’s felt it and it’s like it’s so avoidable ya know, but everybody just gets sucked into it , ya know??” and she said “…..I think you should call it ‘My Wife’s An Angel’”,
and bro I started crying laughing and I said “that’s it..that’s fuckin it”.
And it was like instantly I felt this flood of images and ideas and emotion and it was like the fuckin’ tears acted as a kind of lube of destiny sent from god to rebirth me like Ace Ventura out of the rhino’s ass and it left me a sparkling little lubed up naked baby boy with big ass pupils in awe of this brand new world of possibility
Picture a scrappy lil’ ten year old white boy in Appalachia with a rat tail, runnin’ around a trailer park barefoot & shirtless on a warm summer day. Laughin’ & cussin’ with a couple buddies until a neighbor opens their dirty-ass, tiny bathroom window about 50 feet away and yells
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD OR I’M GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS!”.
The young man stops dead in his tracks, and in one single motion he looks at his friends & then turns toward the sound of the old crow; Makes direct eye contact, grabs the crotch of his pants with one hand, shows them the middle finger of the other, and shouts back
“Yeah, I Bet”.
That’s how I feel listening to people bitch about stupid shit.
