(no subject)
So I told work I was leaving early to visit a dying uncle and we went to the Slayer/Manson show, in which Marilyn Manfucker got his ass handed to him by the almighty SLAYER. But Manson still put on a hella good show as well, I must admit. Then at about 1 in the morning near the highway the transmission in the Stinkin' Lincoln decided to fuck us over and started slipping between gears and in and out of gear, so we braved the highway anyway, deciding to wing it and got off at the next exit because there was no way that car was taking us home. While at the gas station I pulled in to right off the highway ramp, a wierd old drunkin Irish-looking guy kept insisting on helping us, and was beiong offly creepy about it.. offering us a ride home in his shitty old car for just a few bucs and asking for all of our names.. even middle names- wtf? So we got rid of that fucker and triple-A, who'se receptionist apparently had an amazingly hot voice, came at about 2:00 and then Zach's dad got us and brought us home, and now I need a car to get me to and from college.. just great, right when everything was looking so good too.