Jessi Klein’s NotBlog

So the other day I’m scooting around in my used, slightly birdshitted Audi when I see an old lady waiting patiently to cross the street.  Cars aren’t stopping.  But guess who stops?  Humanity hero Jessi Klein does.  She crosses.  I am a considerate driver. 

Just minutes after this incredible feat of love and patience for my fellow earthlings, I’m waiting at the light on Santa Monica and Fairfax to make a left onto Santa Monica.  I pull a few feet in front of the line and wait for the yellow.  This is a nerve racking process, always, but I feel on the spectrum of light waiters, I’m pretty good about it.  I stare at that light intently, hungrily, like it’s a shirtless Clive Owen, waiting to dash left at the very first fraction of the instant it’s yellow.

So it turns yellow, and before I can dash not one but TWO vintage LA dickbags coming from the opposite direction completely speed through.  So by the time I can start my turn the light is now, for one millionth of a moment, red.

But these aren’t even the biggest cock pluggers on the road.  The biggest testicle hugger is the FUCKFACE going perpendicular to me who has been waiting for his green.  He knows I have been trapped by the two dickbags and so am late in making my left.  He also knows I have NO OTHER CHOICE BUT TO TURN since I cannot back up and wait through another red cycle.  So as I make my left he tries to plow forward and then FURIOUSLY HONKS AT ME as I go past him.  Where this asshole had to get so fast that he had to get completely jacked up over the two second delay my late left caused (NOT MY FAULT) I have no idea.  I imagine it was some kind of bag of dicks party, or maybe a shit breath convention, or perhaps a mother fucker seminar.

I just want to say this to all you honkers out there:  FUCK YOU.  Seriously.  You fucking suck.  Your impatient, angry honking ruins my day at least once a week.  You’re a useless human being and no one loves you.  If someone says they love you they’re lying.  If they knew about your honking they would never speak to you again.  I know, because they told me.  You’re ugly inside.  I don’t care how thin or tan you are, somewhere in the world is the Dorian Gray portrait of your hideous ugly self leaning on the horn as another liver spot slowly stains your claw like, grotesque hands.