Dear Guy in the Blue Coupe at the Glebe Rd. Harris Teeter this afternoon:
If you’re waiting for a parking space, perhaps you could, like, wait near the parking space you intend to take, instead of parking over by the curb in front of a parked minivan where no one can see you. Maybe then people would notice that you’re waiting for it.
Instead, in a fit of impotent rage at my indifference to your self-created predicament, you screamed a phrase that was clearly calculated to anger me, but only entertained me. After all, there you were, seething in your car, still circling the lot, as I was on my way into the store. Clearly, I win.
Love and Kisses,
PS: I may be a “fat c*nt,” but you’re not exactly a prize package yourself, you scrawny jackass.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs