See? What did I tell you? Stewoids for Papi!

In other news, I'm thinking of taking a bit of testosterone, choking out my insurance claims adjuster, and gently laying a Bible next to him. So let me get this right - some guy runs a red light and hits me, so I have to front the money for the repairs because you're too incompetent to send either me or the auto body shop a check on time? If I weren't so exhausted from all my training for the Macrame Olympics in '12, I'd be downright pissed.

When someone hits your car and it's completely not your fault, they should have to throw you a few bucks for your trouble. Seriously, I was driving through a green light minding my own business when WHAM! Now I've got to get rides to auto body shops and car rental places and take time out of my work day to argue with retarded claims adjusters. It takes up my valuable time and energy that could be used in a more productive manner such as handicapping the favorites on VH1's Rock of Love (sorry, Rodeo - even the most fit body and "I'll go the extra mile in the sack" attitude can't overcome a Sgt. Slaughter jawline in a lady).

I should be compensated for the giant turd casserole I have to wade through just because some dillhole couldn't tell the difference between green and red. The other guy's insurance company should say "You know what? Here's another $200 for your trouble." Seriously, I'm not asking a lot. A symbolic gesture, really.

Once again, I should be in charge of everything.