Dear motorcycle a**hole who screeched to a stop behind me and started to swear at me at the top of his lungs... it''s called a red light, douchenozzle. Of course I''m going to stop. Not to mention it''s the Alps/Broad St. intersection, so I''d be caught on film and get a f***ing ticket. So you''ll be two minutes late to the gym, nobody cares. Please kindly go f*** yourself.
PS. Why don''t you get a real motorcycle, not that piece of s*** crotch rocket you''ve got now.
