Dear Sir,
You are damn lucky my kids were in the car. Because of them, I didn’t tell you exactly what I thought of your idiotic, thoughtless, the-world-owes-me, ghetto-fied white boy attitude. Maybe, just maybe if you pulled your damn pants up off the ground, and didn’t worry so much about how much bling you were wearing, you would have thought twice before cutting me off as I backed out of my space, just so you could swing through the space between the handicapped signs and pull a very illegal U-turn. It wasn’t like I was fully out of my space in the lane or anything, geez. And why, oh why did you have to pull such an asshole maneuver? So you could get to that Blockbuster vending machine outside the store front. Way to keep it Klassy.
Yes, I did yell out my window at you. Yes I did tell you that you were going to kill someone. I really appreciate the way you dropped the f-bomb numerous times in front of my kids. Again, Klassy with a capitol K. And yes, I did call you a “Ghetto-wannaBe” because trust me, that was the nicest, G-rated thing I could think of. And seriously, you want to claim right-of-way when my car was fully in the lane before you got there, and you cut me off to roll through a couple of handicapped signs to make a U-ey? Really sir? You really want to go there? Really?
Puh-leaze. Do the world a favor. Pull up your damn pants and get a J O B. Learn what it is to be responsible before you really do kill someone, you Jack-Wagon.
Sincerely,
a really pissed-off Mama Grizzly
Way to hammer the nail on the head. People like that deserve to be smacked full of sense. Sorry you had a terrible and inhumane experience.