**From a strict "cred" standpoint(establishing yours, wrecking mines), don't send us any lists from Craigslist, your coworkers forwards, or any other source besides your imagination. Sooner or later some nerdy cyber vulture is gonna bust you and send a shitload of annoying (though truthful) emails to our mailbox, and that just ain't cool.

But keep ya head up l'il nukkas. I ain't mad atcha.
--Tupac Shakur, FLF resident fact checker.


REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD LET ME INTO YOUR LANE DEAR LADY IN ESCORT (by Barry Gabrewski)

--You have a soul

--You saw that dick in the SUV shane me out and not let me in and you come to the realization that (a) you dont want to be like him, and (b) judging from the crazy-like-the-wolf look in my eyez that I might actually get out of my car and pummel your daughter half to death with a combination of roundhouse kicks and straight whip lacerations from the windshield of your car which I have ripped off in a complete rage.

--Im a nice guy

--I'm a "progressive" left turner. Seriously, I am all about forward motion and progressing. Even though I am making a left as soon as I move in front of you and you will not only be one car back in the cue, but you'll also have to wait for me to turn, I will do it as quickly and with as little regard for safety as possible. I am a firm beleiver in 'making the moment' as opposed to waiting for the moment to present itself. If there is so much as a half a second's hesitation on the part of oncoming traffic I will bust across the intersection and you will never see me again.

--I use my turn signals, and rarely slam on my brakes. Have no fear of ending up in my trunk, dear lady in the Escort. You will be forewarned of any turning or stopping as we parade through this shitty rush hour traffic in perfect harmony. If you so much as tap my bumper, let it be known that it is fully your fault and I will sue you for all of your husband's income you frigid blind cow.

--I just passed my manditory California smog and emissions test, so riding behind me is quite smooth and comfortable. I know how it is to be stuck behind the equivalent of a Spy Hunter Smoke Screen, but believe me, if you let me into your lane there will be no such thing. However, I cannot guarantee that I won't be blasting the Spy Hunter theme song from my CD player, so deal!

--Being that you are so busy babbling on your cellphone that you have barely noticed that I creeped nearly halfway to the point of no return in lane mergance, just continue talking and soon I will be in front of you and things will be fine. Its a win/win. Besides, I can't help thinking that soccer moms on cellphones are so natural at not paying attention to the road that they should just continue doing what they do best. Its like, "go ahead, talk incessently to your girlfriend about some stupid shit, its what God put you on this planet for right?".

--I am an habitual green light stretcher. You know when you stare at a green light for long enough, it starts to fade to a yellowish color. In traffic school they teach you that that is a "yellow light" and it means you should slow down and prepare to stop. I believe it is just my mind playing tricks on me because I am late for work and therefore unless it is red, than its obviously green. Trust me lady in the escort, I won't stop, and subsequently neither will you. You don't have to thank me, this is just how I roll.

--I don't have any bumper stickers. I know the "Life Is A Beach" sticker never gets old in San Diego, but when will people learn that sitting in traffic is not the equivalent of taking a fat dump. It just isn't. If Im shitting I'll read anything (newspaper, Maxim, the contents of my wallet, the racial jokes on the bathroom stall, a furniture catalog, whatever.) But when Im stuck in bumper to bumper rush hour traffic the last thing I want to be reminded of is the fact that I don't have a private jet and am forced to stare at the 2x6 piece of plastic adhesive advertising that you are a tool.



TEACHERS THAT I WOULD LET RAPE ME (by Kurt Cobainowitz)

--Any of the female teachers that have made headlines for having sex with their students. Is it me or are ALL of these nutjobs complete smoke shows. Yeah, they're crazy, and its like, illegal, but think of all the crazy people you've hooked up with in your life. Whats a better story?: I hooked up with that crazy chick Pam from Accounts Recievable, or I fucked Ms. Sherwood. It was crazy!)

--Ms. Sherwood. Mamaroneck High School english teacher, I would've traded my entire 1990 Pro-Set complete series hockey cards for this grammatical goddess to have ushered me into adulthood. I bet she would've been all mellow about it too, like, my husband's out of town you wanna hang out on my fouton and smoke a joint. Then I'll sit on top of you and fuck yr brains out.

--Miss Bliss. Early pre-Slater era Saved By The Bell teacher. Wasn't that hot but you know Zach tried to tag it. Plus, she appeared to be the only teacher in the whole fucking middle school so if you're boning her on the regular than you and your Reebok high tops have it made in the shade.

--Drew Barrymore. Teacher in required stoner cult flik Donnie Darko. Even though I am currently working on a list entitled "things that are so 'cute' I want to destroy them" and she ranks in at number 4, I would still touch her where she pees and wouldn't tell the principal (or Swayze) if she fucked me afterschool. Actually it would've been cool if that weird beam of liquid led Donnie into her vagina as opposed to his little sisters room to murder her. That could've been the porno version: Danny Dork Her. But hey, Im just an ideas guy.

--That nerdy teacher from Clueless. Sure she's frumpy and looks like she lives with about 27 cats, but there's something hot about nerds with sexual appetites (see: Katherine Zambito). Also, its a Hollywood flick so they probably cast an 8 or 9 and then dressed her down to a 5 or 6, so as long as you commit, you'll be rewarded. Also, you could do a lot worse in terms of fantasy teachers, i.e. Mrs Grundy from the Archie Comics and that creepy cult leader in a wheelchair from 90210.

--Ms. Irrizari. Another Mamaroneck High School wasted rape-that-never-was. The amount of cocaine I fantasized about snorting from between her jubbly luv pillows could be considered criminal with intent to distribute.