Good Ole Pansy-Boys

I just got back from a city council pre-meeting (which is evidently like a meeting before the meeting next week).

I won't bore you with the details of what the meeting was about because that's not really my point.

Side note: I am also ALWAYS the youngest person at city council meetings. Apparently, only old, fat, white men (and a few of their stuck-up, never-worked-a-day-in-my-life society wives) give a shit what happens in this town.

With that preface, allow me to get to my point, which is two-fold:

1) I do not like nor do I trust men who cannot give me a firm handshake. Give me that wet noodle, and you're already on my suspect/black list. Man up. Reach deep down to the balls God gave you and put a little man into it for crying out loud.

2) Old, fat, white men think they rule the fucking world. They think their opinions are the only ones that matter (except the ones they've instilled in their stuck-up, never-worked-a-day-in-my-life society wives, which are of course, the same opinions they have). And, naturally, they're right, and everyone else is an idiot.

Conclusion: When you're one of only three women in a room, and the other two are brainwashed by old, fat, white men who think they rule the world (but are really pansies who can't even shake a hand with the firmness of soggy bread), and you're the only person under the age of 50, IT SUCKS! Fucking good ole boys.

Too bad they never met me. After staying afterwards to discuss the full facts with the Director of the Planning and Transportation Division (who reminds me of Lindsey Graham but patiently answered all my questions and provided me with everything I asked) and collect some research from him, I am armed and ready to form my own damn opinion and fight for it and mobilize the forces if necessary.

Muhahaha...I am the worst nightmare of Southern Good Ole Boys (old, fat, white pansies!) everywhere!