The area of Orlando that I live in is called Windermere. It's a nice little area among the lakes where the cops will probably pull you over for 3 miles over the limit. Sharing my zipcode is a guy you might know: Tiger Woods. I have a message for Mr. Woods....fuck off. Pardon my Frenglish, but quite honestly, this douche is causing nothing but trouble! Just a moment ago, I was just bumbling down the road in the Barracuda, minding my own business, when I suddenly found myself swerving around the road dodging people in suits. I put down my Chick Fil A and tried to see what was happening. Then I narrowly missed the CNN van. And shortly afterward, the ABC van. You see...because Tiger Woods has decided to take a NAP instead of simply issuing a statement about his accident, the entire country's news organizations have set up camp outside his house.
So I have this to say: if you weren't drunk and you weren't beating your wife, what have you got to hide, kiddo? Better yet...if you weren't drunk, how did you manage to run over a fire hydrant AND hit a tree at 2:20 in the morning? Just issue a statement, damn it, and get out of my way! But in the meantime.........I'll have what he's having.
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