You'd be surprised to learn that exactly nothing goes at 530 am when you are on your way to work at your dad's gas station. Working there is kind of a drag, but you're helping out the old man. Believe it or not a lot of people tip the guy who pumps their gas. Usually its the people with the shittiest cars. Maybe because they know what its like to have a shit job. Its not the wicked rich mean suburban jewish newton mom crowd. No no, Mrs. Goldstein (real name) pulls in with her Lexus and dunkies and mumbles something to you. Her response to "pardon me" because you couldn't hear is " FILL.......IT...........R-E-G-U-L-A-R.........ON....A......CREDIT CARD". She stares at you waving her Amex black card as if to say "hey mexican or retard or retarded mexican watch my lips". Sometimes i do speak spanish to these people to fuck with them. cabrona. 5 minutes later she is the one yelling "hello....hola" immediatley after her car is filled. Pop quiz lady i know you're done but do you see me fucking helping three other people. At least her kids will never be good at sports.
Weed is retarded because it makes people think it is ok to buy $6.35 worth of gas. In change. Look fucktard what stupid fucking mushroom trip allowed you to think it was a good idea to get dreads? You're white. If people didn't know you were a fucktard before now they definitely know. Oh cool Mcdonalds dribble down your phish t-shirt. Weed also sucks because it allowed 311 and phish to exsist. Then later you count out the change out of boredom and there are like 3 canadian coins and it doesn't even add up. Damn it.
Then Andre rolls in. He is high too but its ok. He and his friend are the black guys that work down the street at the jiffy lube. They don't have any money and usually get like 4 dollars in gas. But they pay in dollar bills, aren't fucking retarded, and tip me. on 4 dollars. Or the wicked g oldman that rolled in and called you sprite. Or the Ginger dad who was super nice but tried to sell you his ridiculous ginger babies. he was kidding. i think.
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