Fuck You Bankers
God I hate bankers, well all but Stu. He's a good shit. Don't listen to what everyone else says about you, they are just jealous. Alright here's the story. It's quite similar to my last one which I am still quite bitter about. I'm less bitter here. As you know I am in the midst of car shopping. Not looking really hard as I still have over 2 months till which is the goal set for it. I did however find a super sweet looking car. A little BWM M3. This car was fucking pimping. Tho it's price tage I thought was probably out of my reach. I went to the bank tho anyways. I was at least gonna find out what I could afford. Numbers were mentioned, and to my complete and utter shock, I could afford this sexy little car. Even more to my amasement was the bank said I could afford this car. Notice how I have my budget included. This is important, since most bankers are dinks, cunts, and or bitches with disease infested genitalia, most likely related to the porking of small rodents and banging of the barnyard animals, but back to the shock. I was shocked. So I starting actually talking to the guy with the M3. Getting serial numbers, pictures, all that etcered car knowledge. I'm quite excited by all this by the way. Drop off some tidbits at the bank and patiently wait. After my patience wore thin, which was Wednesday, oh and I dropped all the stuff off at the bank Friday, so thats 2 businesses days of waiting, I call the disease infested crotch of my banker, which was infested due to the sexual relationships with creatures only that come out and night, and have four legs, possibly stray dogs or cats. For the sake of humor and the sheer rate at my pissed off level, I will no longer be referring to a banker as a banker, instead I am going to use appropriate insults. I was informed that there was a mix up at crab shack HQ. A liability was missed in the calculations, so a bit of disappointment hit my face, but I know of the liability missed and was sure it would not affect things too much. I would be kissing the M3 dreams goodbye tho, but I always thought it was a dream anyways. Reality quickly came over me. Then the rotted crotch told me my new shopping figure, which was a signifigant drop. I was not pleased with this new figure that cock juggling thundercunt has mentioned. It was about 1/4 of what death by spoon had mentioned Friday. This liability is not anywhere's near even 1/4 of my income. I was slightly shocked, not in a good way now. Plans of revenge involving fire ants and killer bees were a stewing in my mind. Then I remember Stu. Stu is a banker. Yes a banker, not a diseased infested crotch stain with the skidmarks the size of Texas. Phoned Stu. Numbers were crunched, beer was promised, and my NOW figure is liveable. I aint going to be getting a sweet ass fucking ride, but I will be getting something quite nice. Thanks Stu. To bad your associated with all these walking crabs and other creepy crawly things that come out of creepy places. I'm talking about vaginas and assholes here, possible dickholes too. I'm sure dickholes is included. Anyways thats my new Fucking story. Fucking crab HQ with its talking rodent humpers. (minus Stu)
