Unfortunately, I've been feeling crabby lately about being visited with breast cancer.
As I left my knitting group on Monday night, I drove down the alley as usual and looked left at the end of the alley in preparation to turning right onto the street. I didn't see the three hipsters in black on the sidewalk to my right. They looked peeved and I should have just said "Sorry," but I didn't and turned right onto the street. One of them smacked the side of my car.
I slammed on the brakes, lowered the window, and shrieked like a maniac, "IF YOU EVER TOUCH MY CAR AGAIN, I'LL KILL YOU!" Hip as they are, they looked stunned. Great visual: sweet. saintly white-haired grandmother in a socially conscious Prius with a holy license plate yelling like a trucker. I felt bad for the whole next day. At least I didn't call them little f******s.
1 comment:
If I win the lottery I will travel with a couple of highly trained bodyguards at all times.
Then if something like that happens they will jump out and push those punks around. Grab their glasses and smudge 'em, throw their lattes in the street. Yank out their earbuds and mess up the settings on their iPods.
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