fighting with girls.

to the ginger in the maroon BMW on atlantic ave;

if a girl you "holler" at from you car, creeping down the ave, isn't interested: don't be offended. there's no need to get all nasty and call a girl "fat." that's just not nice, especially if she isn't fat in the first place. your mother didn't give you any manners, obviously, when she passed on that red hair of hers.

the girl simply feels that she deserves more than some dbag who can't even GET OUT OF A CAR to try to talk to her. yeah, we know, you think you're funny and cool shouting at girls on the street and making your buddies laugh in the car while you crack open a tall boy keystone light. but surprise surprise, girls are classier than that.

so when you decide to spit on her, or one of her friends, you have officially started world war III. don't be surprised when she swings at you or when her friends chuck beer cans at your precious BMW. if i would've been wearing stilletos, i would've kicked a hole through your taillight for her. you're a dousche, and you deserve it.

The moral of the story is... girls don't want to be holler'd at. trust me. no girl in their right mind has ever sat their kids down and said "you know how daddy and i met? my friends and i were walking down the street, after a long night at the bar, and daddy rolled down uncle bobby's window and shouted at me, "hey there beautiful, wanna go on a mustache ride?"

so keep your mouth shut when you see girls walking down the street.

and p.s. MAROON!? MAROON!? you were at the BMW dealership and you said to yourself... "you know what--- i think a MAROON BMW is exactly the icing on the cake that I was looking for." Unless you're Bobby Bowden, and that shit was free, you have no excuse.