Dear Useless Hunk of Scrap Metal,

(formerly known as Blaze the Amazing Thunder Blazer)

I am tired of your bullshit. This makes three times in less than a month. Why did you decide to donate all of your oil to the Wawa parking lot??? WHY? That place doesn't need your oil. I need your oil! I need your oil to continue coursing through your little motor veins and smoothing your little motor joints and...and doing whatever else it is that oil does so that you can keep getting me to Work.

I know, I know. I hate Work too. Work is a soul-draining black hole of a place that really makes us all question the point of our own existences. But Work puts gas in your tank, and new wipers on your windshield. Did you ever think of that? Did you? No. I didn't think so. I mean, do you even know how much a gallon of gas costs these days? Not as much as a gallon of ice cream, sure, but the world doesn't run on ice cream, now, does it? And neither ice cream nor gas is free, so just work, you fucking peice of shit or I will fuckingstrangleyouwithYOUROWNWEATHERSTRIPPINGSOHELPMEGOD!!!!!!!!!

Ok.

I got a little carried away there, but I think we understand each other. I am glad we had this little talk.

Love,
Mo