I honestly can’t even put my finger on why I hate this guy — it’s like there are too many options, from his lame-as-shit bald head, to his fat (I’m talking OBESE) German Shepard, to his ugly-ass girlfriend who thinks she is hot shit.
He clearly thinks he is hot shit. He is, I think, on our condo board of directors, and he fancies himself quite the Mr. Future Politician; he’ll look at me knowingly at the gym, like he recognizes me as that girl who drives that car, but he won’t say hi, because he is Too Good.
One time, while walking out to my car with hockey gear in tow, he was walking his dog, and the fat fucking thing lunged at me. He just shrugged, and I took my stick off my shoulder and said, “Glad I’m carrying a big stick.” And only then did he look at me with any kind of emotion — horror and fear. And, while at the time I meant it as a joke, in retrospect, I’m glad he didn’t take it that way.
That’s right, you fucker. I will hit your fat fucking dog with a stick.
you fucking rule