It's not enough that you warm up your loud ass (and shitty!) motorcycle for 15-20 SOLID minutes every weekday morning before 7am. No. You have to BLARE your stank butt rock or, Jesus help me, Lars Larson's show for the whole neighborhood to hear. Whether coming or going, you have to make sure everyone knows YOU ARE ON THE MOVE: VRRROOOM VRRROOOM AND STUFFZ!1?!

Guess what, shit bird? We ARE looking at you. Yes, indeedy. We are staring at the washed-out, 50-something, sad sack douche who is dying for attention. Yes, we can hear all the HORRIBLE things you say to your poor dog - who for some insane reason wags his tail at you like you're a god. Yes, we can hear you and your nag of a partner (sweet lord I hope she didn't marry you) bitch at each other whilst sitting on your cigarette butt stained porch. Who could resist, nay - ignore, such a sad spectacle?

By the way - nice bandana. It's very Bret Micheals (vomit).

PS: You look at that dog wrong again and I'll drive that motorcycle right up your ass.