To the Pussy Who Wouldn't Help Me Friday

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As I was being verbally threatened by a 6'4" crazy street guy on SW 10th and Washington last night, you just stood there RIGHT NEXT TO ME, waiting for the light to change. So, I pull out my mace and tried to get the man to leave my personal space. When this only enraged him more, I looked you dead in your face and pleaded with you to HELP ME, because Psych 101 teaches that by making eye contact your chance of being helped increases greatly. Plus, I'm a cute chick! Not so, in this case. You walked away from me. After running to a nearby parking garage for help, you appeared minutes later to get in your new black BMW after walking around the block on purpose.
I hope you get dick cancer. On half of it. Lengthwise. PUSSY!
But hey, I bet you're a straight GANGSTA in the boardroom, though.

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