It was a gray dreary day in November. The only thing I had to do was go vote. And so my journey began. Upon cranking my car I realized that *someone* had left the interior light on. So my battery was dead. "No problem," I thought. "I'll just see if my coworker, Sarah, can pick me up." I called Sarah. That bitch screened my call! I know she's there. I call again. And again. Then I leave her a message. "Sarah, answer the fucking phone you whore! I need a damn ride." Fifteen minutes later she texts me back. "Go to hell," it says. And that's when I knew she would be my wife. I mean, any girl who won't put up with my shit and then throws it back at me? Plus, she just broke up with this douche of a boyfriend she's been dating for eight months. I still didn't have a ride, so I made a reservation with Uber. It's really a shitty service. I mean, just cause I live in rural Indiana, shouldn't I be able to get a ride too? They never show up on time. So I yelled down the street at the top of my lungs. "Can anyone give me a ride?" And this old Amish dude cracks his whip, stops his buggy, and pulls over. He jumped out of his buggy and SPLASH! A massive mud puddle. I have never in my life seen an Amish guy curse that much. I had to act quick—maybe save the day and get a ride! So I turned on my sprinkler. I soaked the crap out of that dude. You'd think he would be a little more gracious for me cleaning up that mess. But not this time.
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