Episode 02: Some Douchenozzle Stole My Shit

It appears some ass-hat in Florida stole my identity - or at least my debit card numbers. A $75 charge from a gas station in Florida popped up this morning and I immediately thought, "God dammit."

How do I know some douchenozzle stole my shit? I haven't used my debit card in almost a week due to some bad records keeping on my part. That and the fact that I'm not in Florida. I called my bank and they killed the card and began an investigation. They said it will be a week before I get my new card and the same length of time for the investigation to conclude, resulting in me getting my money back and hopefully the prick being tossed off the side of a kayak and into shark infested waters.

This is the first time something like this has ever happened and I am confounded. Thank God I don't own any credit cards and thank God I noticed the transaction. My credit's bad enough as it is, asshole!

So today already went sour, but I still didn't stop learning. On the way home, it occurred to me that once you hit 55 years of age, you apparently lose all your programming and everything you ever learned just disappears. I got stuck behind some sixty-year old corpse at a red light and we were both turning right, but the dumb-ass apparently forgot that you can turn right on red. The cocksucker could've turned right thirty-eight goddamn times but he just sat there trying to remember who he was and if Nixon was still president.

I was afraid of dying as a child, and I vividly remember wanting to be buried with my Game Boy in case I ever got bored being dead. Now, I'm worried about becoming one of these decaying, thoughtless shells of human beings that are somehow allowed to drive and actually interact with society around them. I don't want to get old and succumb to whatever is plaguing these people. Why is it that they keep living? Once you start forgetting how to make a bowl of cereal or blink your eyes, you should just be taken out back and shot, not be given a driver's license and as your leaving the DMV, everyone prays that you don't run over little Janey and her pet dog, King Russelheimer, which you inevitably do. And why did it happen? Because you confused the brake pedal with the accelerator.

What else are you confused about, Oldie McBout-to-die? Why all of society groans at the sight of another senior citizen behind the wheel of a vehicle? If you could remember what they talked about in the news the night before, you wouldn't be so fucking confused.

- Trace