You may recall that I have recently embarked on a new adventure that required me to eliminate *read: greatly reduce the amount of* coffee that I drink. On Saturdays, however, I can drink as much coffee as I want and I fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity.
So, I was on my way, for the second time that morning, to get my delicious light roast from Caribou before my hair appointment, when out of no where, I was violated. As I was driving through the parking lot an elderly man, probably about 80 ish, yelled into my car window as I was passing… “Slow down, bbiiiitttcccch!” Oh. No. You. Did. Not.
I am not above accepting culpability for driving too fast, generally anytime I am behind the wheel… but, did your mother never teach you how to talk to a lady? I am pretty sure, that unless you are one of my girlfriends/mom/sister/aunt and you are pronouncing it b-e-otch, then you aren’t going to call me a bitch.
I stopped my car, because for a split second I wanted to get out and shove a glass of Metamucil up his ass… but I refrained and drove away. He is lucky though.
No comments:
Post a Comment