Let's start at the beginning and tell it like it is, shall we? I fucking hate you. If you can't get the fuck outta my way, then I just have to hate you. I'm going to assume that most of you have a god damned drivers license, so why don't you know the rules of the road? I see you assholes out there every time we're on the bike, you Driving-Miss-Daisy-Slow-Ass-Motherfuckers. While I realize you must have nowhere better to go, perhaps some of us do. All I can think, over and over again is get outta my fucking way.
Let's talk SUV's, ok? These are not Ferraris you dumb fucks. The highway was not meant for your Loser Cruiser to weave in and out of traffic at 75 mph, cutting the rest of us off, like you're Mario Fucking Andretti. If you choose to drive a god damned marshmallow, then drive it like it was intended; doing the speed limit in the cocksucking slow lane, ok? For Chrissake, get out of my fucking way!
So now that we have the record straight, if any of you have something you'd like to say to me, just let me know when and where. I have a size 7 1/2 Doc Marten that I would love to shove up your ass.
My name is Sash. I'm not fucking hiding. You want a shot at the title? I'm ready, you Bitch, anytime you think you're man enough. Let's roll. But until then, get outta my fucking way.