Thursday, January 19, 2006
Dear Jackass, Volume 7
Dear Weirdo Who Backs Into A Parking Space:
This doesn't really have any negative impact on me, but it's just irritating. Are you robbing a bank, and need to make a fast getaway? Is your car such a heap of shit that you expect to be pushing it out of the space instead of driving it away? Or are you just one of those pompous turds who has to be different? Either way, cut it out. Park normally like the rest of the world and quit being such an attention whore. It's no coincidence that people who insist on backing into a parking space are the same people who keep their stereos cranked up and their windows cracked enough that everyone can be impressed with their commitment to deafening themselves. "Look at me! I'm wild and crazy! I'm so wild and crazy I'm going to make myself deaf by age 35!"
Dear Smile Nazi:
I'm at the gym minding my own business when you walk by and say, in your Howdy Doody voice, "Smile!" So now I'm obligated to fake a weak smile for you, but really, I want to gut you with my car keys. I don't like what you're implying here, which is one or all of the following:
1) I'm a joyless, miserable cow who needs to lighten up.
2) You're a fun-loving saint who was put on the earth to bring happiness to the bitter and disenfranchised.
3) I desperately want to be happy and fun like you, but just don't know how to release my inner child.
Hey asshole, maybe the reason I'm not smiling is I'm in the middle of working out. What kind of goofball works out with a big dumb grin on his face? If you had walked by and I'd been smiling like a loon, you'd have thought I was dipping into Courtney Love's stash. Now you've got me doubting myself, questioning whether or not I'm too uptight. How about you bash yourself in the head with a 50 lb. dumbbell? That would make me smile.