There is no song that can adequately title my rage.

I rode my bike to the El this morning.  All was well until this FUCKTARD DOUCHEBAG ASSHOLE IN A FAGGOTY BLUE GODDAMN HONDA decided his opinions of my tits should be known to me.

I never feel the need to hear that shit. Honestly.  I get it, my tits are great, blah blah blah. Keep it to yourself. Ogle and move the fuck on.

But nooooooo.

"Aye baby I like the way you ride that shit, girl! Make yo titties bounce for a G!"

1. Who says that?

2. Rahm, we have really got to settle the pothole problem in Chicago.

This guy followed me past three streets. THREE.  I wasn't wearing headphones, he knew I could hear every single word he said the first time but I hadn't given him a reaction which is what he wanted.  So I gave him one.

I would like to know what this fucker expected.  He's not Howard Stern, did he really think I was just going to bare my titties before 7:30 in the fucking morning?  What, was I supposed to hop off my bike so he could motorboat me at a stop sign?

What exactly is so surprising about a woman being enraged after such provocation?

I called him a dickless faggot and told him to go fuck himself.

He responded by letting his car drift into the bike lane.

"Who's a faggot?  Who's a faggot?"

 There were two drivers behind this fucking cunt: the first one took advantage of Dickless harassing me and passed him up; the other one started honking his horn seeing that I was in danger.

After another swerve into the bike lane, my instinct told me to make the slightest of rights to avoid the parked cars.  However, I couldn't avoid the curb.

I basically flayed my fucking kneecaps falling off the bike.  By the time I got up, the blue Honda was gone but the other driver (silver-ish something driven by a dude named Albert) pulled over and helped me up, even offering me a ride.  I gave him my number and told him to drive ahead and if he saw the blue Honda to text me the license plate (where I work, I can find so much shit with just those digits). 

Hopped back on my bike and made it Grand to find a text from Albert: no sign of him. he proby made it 2 the eway. (sic)

Thank you, Albert and all those like Albert.

To the dude in the blue Honda and all those like that dickless wonder: I'll be carrying rocks in my bag now.  Fuck with me.