Portland's Biggest Band of the '90s Sparkled Before the Fade
So I'm waiting for the 75 bus at the Hollywood transit center, trying to keep dry in the shelter when you come rolling up. You, with your giant, Christopher-Pike-from Star-Trek motorized dick chariot [wheelchair], trying to fit it in where it clearly doesn't belong. There are already four people jammed up in that vestibule/covered bus stop thing; there's no room. But before I can even move out of the way you bust a 180 and back into me, shoving me up against the plexiglas.
Other stuff happens, and then the author does this...
I dig out a pair of wire-cutters that I had just bought 20 minute previous and proceed to pretend to tie my shoes but really what I was doing was cutting a very important-looking wire down near the motor on your aforementioned powered cock taxi.
Long story short: I got on the bus and you didn't. Fuck you, douchebag.
Finally, someone who's a shoe-in for the Nobel Peace Prize. Read the rest of this asshole's story here, and feel free to tell him what an asshole he is in the comments. (Or cheer him on, which is what some assholes are already doing.) It's the I, Anonymous Blog—where humanity regularly gets a very important wire cut.