Parking. Fuck Off.

Do you know what it is to be a man? Being a man is getting out of your car, looking at your fucked up parking job, and then getting back in your car and parking it correctly.

Being a woman is what I saw about ten minutes ago. It’s pulling up to the curb like a drunken teenager, mashing your tire against the concrete like you’re humping a doorknob, and then getting out of your car whilst on a cell phone and letting someone else deal with the whole shit.

By someone else, I mean ‘some man’, who is more than likely going to have to pay for that tire when it blows the fuck up.

Men are better drivers than woman. Think of driving like fucking. Men are better than woman at it in everyway. We men initiate it, we do all the fucking work (including paying for it), and we let everyone know when it’s done. Who gives a fuck what women think about when it’s done. That’s like a bus driver just walking around town telling banks it’s time to close up for the day. What the fuck does a bus driver know about banking?

Dick. And that’s exactly what women know about fucking and parking and also driving.

Women can’t park for shit. Have you ever watched a woman park? It hurts me in my balls. As a man I have these things called testicles and they fucking hurt when I have to watch a woman drive a 60,000 dollar something in between two other 60,000 dollar something’s. I can’t explain it. Science can’t explain it either because gonads are more scientifically advanced than anything that has ever been. I’m just telling you what hurts and where.

You know what else women suck at? Backing out of their parking spots.

I don’t know where in the fuck women get the idea into their heads that they should drive. They can’t. They can’t jump the very first fucking hurdle of that man-race, which is pulling out of and pulling into a parking spot. I’m going to state the very obvious for the sake of completeness right now. The big fucking cement shit that stops your car from rolling into the beauty parlor or the food market (which is commonly called a curb) is imaginary. That’s right. It’s imaginary — to men at least. Any man will pull up to a curb and use that as a suggestion.

“Maybe now is a good time to stop my fucking car,” a man will say whilst humping a doorknob. “Maybe I’ve driven as close to this bullshit boutique as someone can get.”

Well you have. Now get the fuck out and look at the five inch dent you just put in your tire. Five inches is huge. If anyone tells you it isn’t, ask them how they’d feel about a five inch stick of TNT exploding in their cat’s butthole.

Probably they wouldn’t feel good about it. Fuck you, women shouldn’t drive.

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