Well, suck it, L.A., because I hate you too.
Oh, I've overheard you on your fancy iPhone, calling your family back in the Midwest while you sit there, sweating, cramping up, getting angrier and angrier. "I hate the 405," you whine to Mama. "It's sucking the soul from my body. The traffic's gonna make me kill myself. Waaa, waaa, waaa." Well, the feeling is mutual, you Westside, Audi-driving pricks.
Oh, you couldn't hear me over your KCRW background music? Yeah, you in the $200 James Perse T-shirt trying to get to the Getty for some publicity event with free chardonnay.
For almost two years now I've been going through full reconstructive surgery so that you can have one more lane to sit on over the Sepulveda Pass. That's because MTA and the California DoT spent thousands of dollars on studies that proved I'm the busiest and most congested freeway in the United States. Like you didn't already know that, Einstein.
So I used to get a rest at night, but now with all the construction, I've got all these fat-ass contractors pounding on me all night long. Or maybe that sounds like something you'd be into. Sicko.
With something like 330,000 cars passing over me each day, I'm already moving shit, yo. I'm the king pimp of freeways, bleedat -- and you should be thanking me, bitch.
Don't even get me started on "Carmageddon." What did you think was going to happen? When you "locationally disadvantaged" folks stay in the friggin' Valley for one day, the rest of the city's like a dream.
Hey dumbass, if you hate traffic, don't come crying on me. Dislodge your iPhone from the side of your head for five seconds and take a look in the mirror. You're the one driving.
--as told to Wendy Gilmartin