waiting for some fucker come to see Britney fucking Spears to die in the audience or something, send the fucking vultures on their way with a new story. the only shit in this that matters is if Sam's ok. fuck you with your popcorn shit.
some fucker in a dick car, the kind you get where the fuck behind the wheel don't know shit about upkeep, came in today to ask me about checking the fucking oil. not changing it. checking it. driving a $50 000 car and don't know shit about keeping it on the fucking road. almost as bad as the guy who came in two weeks back who rode a fucking Harley off the lot, custom shit and everything and came in crying like a pussy because he dropped it two hours after. what the fuck are we meant to do make it new again?
oh yeah. Marvel. she ain't coming fucking through yet.