My left green arrow trumps your right to turn right on red. Thank you.
And the fuckhead has the balls to slam his horn back at me and flip me off, then proceed to tailgate me on the highway for a mile and a half.
You would think that my already being in the intersection making said left hand turn would be warning enough that I had that green arrow.
And the fuckhead has the balls to slam his horn back at me and flip me off, then proceed to tailgate me on the highway for a mile and a half.
You would think that my already being in the intersection making said left hand turn would be warning enough that I had that green arrow.

And then when dinner was served, she kept complaining that the roast chicken wasn't anything like Boston Market, and the mashed potatoes and gravy had lumps, and the creamed spinach wasn't anything like Boston Market ... it turns out that she didn't cook, they had takeout every evening
And any time that Frank was late home by like 5 minutes she would be on the phone to me every 15 minutes or so asking if he was there because he wasn't home. Keeping in mind that the only time he had ever been over was the time we invited them over for dinner 

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