Seriously fuck Commercial Drive and its fucking Commercial Drive-ness.
Fuck those fucking pit bull crosses everywhere and the fucking French-Canadians they are attached to.
Fuck the shit left on the curb by the fucking stank ass hippies who can't even keep their own environs clean, never mind the fucking planet.
Fuck Continental coffee and the fucking coffee klatch that takes up the whole fucking sidewalk with their tangle of fucking mongrel dogs and overloaded SUV fucking style mega-strollers.
Fuck the fucking righteous pedestrians who don't understand a fucking turn signal and walk anyway.
Fuck that kilt wearing scooter pushing former courier dress like a fucking air-raid siren freak-show.
Fuck the freak-shows and their fucking pincushion arms with ants under the skin and stolen cds in their pockets and fucking cup with fucking other peoples money in it.
Fuck those fucks on the fucking loud Harleys and fuck that fuck in the lowered fucking yellow truck. Jesus Christ what the hell is that. A stupid fucking hobby that's what.
Fuck the crazy people. Yeah you heard me shuffler. I'm tired of seeing you do your fucking laps of commercial drive with that fucking buzzed out, shook heads with a hammer look all day. Fucking conform and break into houses already you shiftless fuck.
Fuck you fucking bull dykes. Honestly, looking like a fucking lumberjack was never a good look, not even for fucking lumberjacks.
Fuck you people with those fucking chains on your wallet. What the fuck, they're pulling your pants down.
Fuck those fucking Euro-mod-scooter fucks who show up from god knows where and infest the sidewalk every now and then.
Fuck you fucking wake and bakes with your fucking devil sticks and hoola-hoops. Get off the playground you self-medicated poor rich kids and take your parental financed patchouli stench with you.
Cobs bread you're okay. Except for that fucking bell you ring when you've accomplished the unimaginable and baked fresh fucking bread in your fresh fucking bread bakery.
And while I'm on fucking bakeries. Fuck you Fratelli's and your fucking order system that encourages all these Commerical Drive fucks to cut lines whereever possible so they can get their half dozen rolls and Happy Birthday Asia/Jasmine/Freedom/some fucking deep meaningful Irish or some heritage bullshit name, a full 30 fucking seconds before they are supposed to.
Fuck Wazubee for being so expensive. Fuck Havana because seriously, fuck that place. Fuck the falafel place for the bandaid in the fucking falafal - you know who you are.
Fuck the video rental place for smelling like cat pee. Fuck the french fry place for being fucking frigid.
And holy fuck, fuck the whole goddamn Broadway Skytrain station into a giant blackhole of magnificent fuck-offery.