Strange as it may seem, this life is based on a true story." - Ashleigh Brilliant
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True blue Scorpio
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June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006
Sunday, August 17, 2003
Karma's a bitch. I often bitch about old people who shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel, and today might've been my griping of the elderly's driving practices coming back to karmically bite me in the ass. Or perhaps some old people are just mean and spiteful bags of saggy flesh.
I was accosted by an old woman in the Circle K this morning. I pulled up to see the only handicap space taken and no other spaces near the door available. The next spot was actually on the corner of the store - not really a space, but the ramp was right in front of it and I'm in a Miata (I don't take up much space), and everyone parks there. The Caddy sitting in the handicap space had it's door swung wide open. Considering the number of crackheads and thugs that constantly hang around this gas station, this surprised me. I pulled up, but stayed back a bit so I wasn't too close to the other cars. I went in and was doing my business at the ATM when I heard the little shriveled prune with orange-dyed hair say something about someone blocking her in. A thought passed through my mind that she couldn't be talking about me. Just then, she steps back in the store and yells loudly, "Who's in that little black car out there?" My car isn't black, but I'm well accquanited with Blank's Law. I look at her and say, "Me." She starts yelling at me that I'm blocking her in - she can't get in her car or back out. As she's going off, I'm running over the scenario in my head and know there is no way I am blocking her in any way, shape or form. All I could guess was that she was aggravated that she might have to close her door or move it (remember, it's swung wide open) to get into her car. Hello. Not my problem - nor my fault. I said something about needing to park near the handicap ramp (I'm standing there at the ATM on crutches, duh) and she starts yelling that she is handicapped and she has a tag. "So do I," I tell her and she says, "Well, you have to come move it!"
My first reaction was to yell back at her, "You wouldn't have trouble getting in your car if your door wasn't swung wide open, you old bag." But I'm not gonna go off on an old lady, no matter how bitchy she is, in a convenience store full of people. Instead, I just say, "I will" in a tone that says "when I'm damn well ready", and turn back to my ATM business. But I hate confrontation and this old bitch has just called me out in a store full of people. I was angry, and shaking - which pissed me off more. Still, I don't rush - no old wrinkled, bat is gonna make my crutch-usin' ass hurry to do her bitchy bidding. I then walk up to the counter, wait in line (with everyone giving me furtive glances) and buy my cigarettes. As I hobble out of the store, I see the caddy leaving the parking lot. Apparently she wasn't as blocked in as she thought she was, eh?
When I told this story to Baret, his natural assumption is always that I actually did something stupid and am somewhat to blame, so to prove my case, I drew a diagram. As the illustration clearly shows, I was not in the wrong, and the aged battleaxe was just a grumpy rich bitch who likes to start shit. (Make fun of my crappy drawing and I'll kick your ass - I was drunk, ok?):
I went and checked out my passenger side door - just to make sure the crazy ole' dame hadn't keyed me in retaliation or something. That would've been her liver-spotted ass. What a way to start out a Sunday.