Irritable Male Syndrome

Thursday, January 03, 2008

On NYE day, I drove to the neighborhood Rainbow Foods to pick up--yep, you guessed it--art supplies. By "art supplies", I mean "food". The only artistic bone I have in my body is the one best used in bed, if you know what I mean. To fingerpaint on my sheets, duh. No euphamism there, people.

In the special, as in stupid, words of Vanilla Ice; "Bumper to bumper, the avenue was packed...", as was the parking lot of supermarket. Makes sense, I suppose, that the streets outside of said supermarket parking lot were just as busy as were the streets adjacent. Brilliant, this one. As it was, it took me a few minutes to navigate my way through people that looked like they'd eaten their way lunch the self-serve candy bins(trough), and decided that 1 mil contractor bags were also practical as a muu muu, until I found someone backing out of their spot, way, way back in the far corner.

What I didn't see was the asshole waiting around the corner, behind another parked car, that had presumably, judging by his extreme assholery, been waiting for that single parking spot since Christmas Day. The car that was leaving backed out towards me, which meant that the other guy was blocked for a moment, giving me first access to the spot. That is, until the guy tried wedging himself into the spot(even though two-thirds of my car was already in), while screaming at me through his closed driver's side window, through my driver's side window. He sounded more like Hellen Keller than a coherent, level-headed human-being, which made me stop my progress and laugh at him.

His displeasure then came in the form of random hand motions, and mouthing some profanities and, what I can only assume was his recital of the Declaration of Independence while playing I'm a Chubby Bunny. I couldn't understand anything, but it looked like he wanted the spot, badly at that. So, I backed out and decided to let him have it.

This didn't please him, either, because he started trying to squeeze past me to find another spot, coming so close to scraping his mirror down the whole of my passenger side. Of course, I did tried to rile him up more by not parking in the spot that he so desperately needed, and parking in another open spot that he fucking passed on the way to attempt to shit on my day.

What is wrong with people? I may hate a lot of people--and I do mean a LOT--but never once have I gotten even the slightest bit upset over something as trivial as a parking spot. I was sort of hoping that he'd try to confront me in the store so I could ask him just how miserable his life is, how much of a disappointment he was to not only himself, but everybody that he's ever been close to, that he went all Krakatoa over something so unimportant.

I'm sure that would've gone wasted on someone like him, though. Then I'd be forced to Forearm Shiver him, a la Bob, and kick the three kids that were walking by because they kind of, sort of looked like the asshole.

I suppose this could lead me to being less of an ass in my free time. Unless, of course, it's completely warranted, say, to people that refer to themselves as anything "licious", or people with monroe piercings, or even stupid parents that name their stupid kids with stupid names, like Deshauwvauntay WindLisp--last name Miller.

Get Real.


At 10:23 AM, Blogger Joe Speaker said...

In my high-strung youth, I had a woman pilfer a parking spot from me at the mall during Christmas season in a similar manner. In her case, however, it was clear her actions were premeditated, that she knew I was a) waiting for the spot and b) was there before her.

My reaction was to leave my car in the middle of the aisle, step to her back bumper and let loose a string of awesome expletives.

She had no real reaction, just got out of the car--no mean feat, as she was carrying better nearly three bills--and waddled away, ignoring me. Until I said, "Jenny Craig is on the other side of the mall."

She immediately started screaming at me ("I'm just big-boned!" or something like that) and it was my turn to ignore her, which I did, victoriously striding back to my car.


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