Bloglander

When I was in the crosswalk heading to the curb on the other side while the
green light was mine, I freely admit to getting a little riled up when your
side mirror snagged the strap of my purse and drug me backwards a few
steps. Yes, you came that close, Lord and Lady Douche Bag! I hollered, you
stopped and then both of you proceeded to give me a verbal spanking about
the possible damage to your rental car? The reasoning on your end, because
you had to get to the Davenport, which was the remaining red light time for
you and a ½ block away? Hope your Depend pad was soaking through your
expensive golf shorts from fear when the big banker dude approached us from
the crowd gathered to inform you of what an old geezer coward (his exact
words) you looked like for yelling at me. We had at least 40 pair of eyes
for witnesses on us across the street at the STA Plaza while you both were
hopping up and down like crazed monkeys in a zoo. I still chuckle at our
encounter even though I could have been seriously injured while wishing you
and your highly feminine wife (does she kiss your grandchildren with that
drunken sailor mouth of her’s…?) a wonderful summer of crappy golf games
and reckless driving.