Return of the Frenzy...

So I have a question for all of you folks out there who have NO FREAKING CLUE THAT THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE ON THIS FREAKING EARTH...

...ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????? Who ever told you that you are the single, most important person in town?? Because believe me, sugar -- at no point during my day am I above beating a bitch with my cell phone, or otherwise flipping bananas all up in your grill...

Yes, 80-pound sorority girl in the restaurant who will continue to perch on the edge of your pulled-out chair behind me (who is NOT 80 pounds...) forcing me to slide into my seat, sit perfectly upright, and pray for air while I, um, overhear EVERY word of your assinine, two-tequila-shots-too-many, mind-numbing, soul-soiling, so-called conversation with your frat-boy-du-jour, I'm talking to you.

Yes, Ms. I'm too self-important and inconsiderate to slow down before I actually reach the red-light intersection to let you out of your drive-way. Instead, I'm going to stop DIRECTLY infront of your driveway, and then awkwardly stare straight ahead, pretending not to know that I'm completely blocking you in from being on your merry and assumingly grateful way. This makes me feel good the first thing in the morning, and helps to repair the damage done to me in the 1st grade, when I was supposed to be the leader in the bathroom line, but Heather Whoever had to budge infront of me and then she got to be the leader for the whole day... And anway... just... ME FIRST!! I'm talking to you.


Yes, Mr. & Ms. New Neighbors upstairs who apparently need to hammer, saw, screw, drill, sandblast and otherwise construct their ikea coffee table and tv stand at exactly ten minutes after i decide it's time for bed (which, for those of you who may be cynical or astute enough to ask: is NOT typically in the middle of the afternoon on Saturday -- we're talking closer to real-life, adult bedtimes here...), I'm talking to you.

Yes, people of all ages, races, and mobility stages who feel entitled to saunter, sache, plod, trudge, shuffle, lumber, shamble, tramp, creep or crawl across the street in any fashion which is clearly slower than thier physical state readily indicates, in a busy intersection, where cars (especially mine) are trying to pass through during their green light allowance. Get off of your high horse -- and the phone, while you're at it -- and just cross the damn street! Nordstrom's Rack won't be there, on the opposite block forever. Step to!