I love driving on I-95 through Northeast Philly. Nothing is so relaxing as casually glancing at your mirror and being freaked by the massive headlights of a screaming 16-wheeler that’s six inches off your bumper, pushing you to do 70, 75, and then the trucker mercifully blows right by you, the back of his trailer tagged with one of those signs that ask, “How’s My Driving?”
In one of the most popular disgruntled-office-worker movies, the guys only wanted to steal from the company as revenge. For the guys in Horrible Bosses, it’s so bad that they think murder is the only way out.
More red tape from the city