Faggots of the world, unite
Reading the City Paper cover story ("Shell of a Town," about College Park) last night, I was overwhelmed with pride by the following passage (please note the context in which the f-word is used if it makes you uncomfortable):
There was a faggot sighting just the night before. Shortly after the bars’ closing time, a student was walking along nearby Princeton Avenue when a car drove by. According to Prince George’s County police, the driver called the student a faggot. The student kicked the car. The driver stopped the car, grabbed a crowbar, and attacked the student. They both ended up at the hospital. The faggot apparently put up a good fight.
Bless him. Any reaction that might make a casual verbal abuser think twice before shooting his mouth off in the future is a noble endeavor. Awarding him with a trip to the hospital and/or the body shop is just icing on the cake. But faggots, please: let's not get ourselves attacked with lethal weapons if we can avoid it. We're all worth more intact.
There was a faggot sighting just the night before. Shortly after the bars’ closing time, a student was walking along nearby Princeton Avenue when a car drove by. According to Prince George’s County police, the driver called the student a faggot. The student kicked the car. The driver stopped the car, grabbed a crowbar, and attacked the student. They both ended up at the hospital. The faggot apparently put up a good fight.
Bless him. Any reaction that might make a casual verbal abuser think twice before shooting his mouth off in the future is a noble endeavor. Awarding him with a trip to the hospital and/or the body shop is just icing on the cake. But faggots, please: let's not get ourselves attacked with lethal weapons if we can avoid it. We're all worth more intact.
2 Comments:
You straddle your fixie while I bend over to unlock my sparkly bass-boat blue cruiser. We ride to your place, slowly so that my flyaway mane doesn't fly away too much. I admire your diesel jean covered ass and the grungy u-lock sticking out of your back pocket. Finally we arrive at your house and make ourselves comfortable on your Ikea couch with Mates of State singing in the background. I kick off my cowboy boots and pull off your chucks. You run your hands up my leggings and under my miniskirt (which I specifically did not buy from the Gap). You tell me that I'm smarter than other girls you know and I unzip you pants. We fuck until the cd stops playing.
Mom, please, it's majorly embarassing when you post here!
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