Dear Cab Drivers Who Don't Shut The Fuck Up,
Just as I’m feeling relieved that all my friends left the apartment fashionably late and not like “WTF who do you think you are” late, I happen to get in your cab. Like why? Why was I just so beyond unlucky? Yes, I’m talking to you annoying, talkative cab driver.
Whatever, if you don’t know why I’m complaining already you must have not ever gone clubbing in your life, in that case, I’m so sorry for your loss. To spoil your innocence and or socially awkwardness, I just got in the cab with that annoying driver who doesn't shut the hell up.
Sir, I don’t know where you’re from nor do I care. How may kids do you have? How’s your girlfriend? You came all the way from where? Oh wait.. I didn’t fucking ask you. Want to know why? I don’t give a shit. But hey, continue to blab about your life which I will try very hard to forget the minute I step out of your cab. Quite frankly I’m saving my brain cells to count the glasses of champagne and shots I’m going to take tonight. So please, just stop talking.
I’m just wondering how my Mixology-Singer 22 combo outfit can pass as a therapist’s outfit. Honestly. My therapist shops at Chico’s. If I look like I shop at Chico’s; let me know so I can ask that homeless man on the street for a garbage bag to wear as a crop top.
And we know you’re going through a rough time, and like that’s totally fine. If I had feelings I would totally feel for you. But the only feelings I have are nausea and drunk.. Are those like even feelings?
Anyways, what I’m trying to say nicely but not so nicely is shut the fuck up,