Dear God It’s Friday.

Most people like to thank God that it’s Friday.  Or they’ll say goodness if they’re not so religiously inclined.  I tend to like working Fridays, at least more than I do Saturdays.  Not this past week though.

Look, the money squeeze is out.  I know and respect this.  One of my biggest pet peeves though is people asking me if my taxi can fit five people.  No it cannot.  If people are bitching about how small my cab is and two people are sitting in the back…then how are four people gonna fit at all?  Alcohol does impair your judgment that badly.  Nevertheless these damn Korean kids ask me if five can fit and I tell them no.  These assholes STILL try to do it and the dude that sits in the front tells me to not worry about it and that he’ll “get me”.  I am PISSED.  The dudes in the back know this, yet keep sayin weird shit to each other such as your bum feels good on me etc.  I know they were jokin around with each other but this shit was NOT cool.  If I get pulled over, I pay the price not them.  “You got this if I get pulled over?”  “Oh no don’t worry about it it’s not gonna happen.”  Fuck you.  Then you “get me” by paying $10 on a $9.50 fare yeah that’s the way your Won-Dolla Tip Nation bitchmades roll.  You no hook brotha up.

So you wanna go to some club in Brooklyn and hail a cab from Columbus Circle all because a train is running local.  Are you serious right now?  You do realize it’s gonna cost way more than $2.25?  If it was like midnight I’d understand but I know it doesn’t take THAT long to get down to Empire Blvd and Flatbush Avenue on the train.  You have me play Power 105 in the car, I’m stuck in traffic for 40 minutes, I have to listen to your loud boogi asses talk about how poppin a place you think certain spots will be because a radio DJ will be there, and so on.  Funkmaster Flex DJ’in at a club ain’t shit anymore, it might have been back in…1995.  You don’t tip me on a $31.10 fare and then you thank me on top of that?  If you’re not gonna tip me you have no right to speak to me.  Seriously.  Don’t thank me.  Fuck off.

Same goes for you two Astoria-bound snowflakes.  Don’t commend my music and then tip me nothing.  Trying to spark up a conversation about my Sirius XM go spark up your batteries on your respective vibrators.

And so on.


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