Friday, May 30, 2014

Turds

One day. Actually, not even one day. About 12 hours until my parents are here to help me move. Update:  I'm suppose to be moving into my cousin's group house tomorrow, but I got a text earlier today saying that the girl whose room I'm taking over is giving them issues again. Get out, you crusty turd! And yet, I still don't have everything packed.

Speaking of turds and my cousin - that started off weird - she and I went to dinner on Monday. On our way back to our neighborhood, we heard someone yelling off to right while we sat at a red light. I looked over and made eye contact with this very irate man who was yelling, "DO YOU WANT TO MOVE". I had, oh, I don't know, four feet between me and the car in front of me to aid in this very annoyed middle-aged, Ravens gear wearing, peeved white guy's parking attempt - which I only noticed once he was screaming at me. So I put down my back window to talk to him.

"Do you want to ask nicely?" I replied calmly.

"NO, YOU BITCH. YOU NEED TO MOVE."

"Well, then I'm not moving," I said confidently like talking to a tantruming toddler, as I popped on my hazard lights.

Hazard lights: Automobiles' gift to let you do any damn thing you please.

The light turned green. As he tried to park again, within inches of my car, he began to shout any and all expletives at me: cunt, dickhead, douchebag and then called me stupid. He delightfully added, "IS THAT HAIR COLOR REAL OR DO YOU DYE IT," trying to poke fun at my wrongfully-assumed dye job and intelligence (because everyone knows blond jokes are true - like duh.).

This attempt, of course, was quickly thwarted when, in unison, my cousin and I snapped back: "It's natural, actually!" And giggled a little. I then called him a turd.

Of all things during this ridiculous, heated, District of Columbia main road, Memorial Day evening, road blocking debate, I called him a turd. ...I've really got to work on my insults.

At this point he had said he was going to follow me home somewhere between calling me a cunt and insinuating that I'm stupid and dye my hair blond. Because I want to live, I said, "Well then I'm definitely not moving now," getting a bit concerned for our safety. The pleasant drivers behind me adhered to my do-whatever-the-fuck-you-want blinking lights I had clicked on when this whole thing began and went around, nary a yell or a beep - this time as I was actually doing something obnoxious. He called me stupid again and I said I have a masters degree (it's all I could think of) and what does he do. He said he was a lawyer. "Oh. That makes sense," I snarkly remarked. He said he was going to sue my ass. "For what?!" my cousin and I replied again in unison.

"FOR BLOCKING TRAFFIC." Apparently you can sue someone for blocking traffic. I'm sure he was a real lawyer. Better call Saul. After we pointed out that wasn't sue-worthy, he threatened to call the police.

"Go ahead," I said, "I'd like to tell them you said you were going to follow me home, so that they can escort us."

"I NEVER SAID I WAS GOING TO FOLLOW YOU," he screamed back.

"Yes you did!," we again said in tandem. "And she has a witness," attested my cousin.

"OH YOU AND YOUR BEST FRIEND?!" he spit back, as we looked at each other dumb-founded at the entire situation and his latest insult. He pulled out his phone and called the cops.

"The's a woman on Wisconsin and she's blocking traffic," he said into his phone, calm as a mellow hippie. After a moments more discussion, he hung up, looked over at me pleased with himself and then went on parking. I didn't believe for a minute that he actually called the police - nor did I care because it would have been preferable - and as he began backing into the space (please note I hadn't moved my car so it seems possible he could have done this from the start), I felt comfortable enough that he wasn't going to follow me home and kill - or "lawyer" - me and away we drove.

"That was a weird one," I said to my cousin as we rounded the corner.

"Yea," she responded. "Does that kind of stuff happen to you a lot - like, is that normal?"

"I don't even know anymore," I replied. And back home we went so I could continue my packing for both a transitional summer and cross country move, while keeping an eye out of my windows to make sure my car wasn't vandalized or someone tried to crawl through and kill me for stopping at a red light. I regaled my roommates of six more days with the tale; one had driven by us while this all went on. I'm glad there were witnesses because I don't think people believe this shit anymore.

Anyway, I'd better get back to packing because a few months back a few friends offered to help me. They even defended me against a girl who was very anti-help-me-move; all we got your back, gurl. And suddenly, they're nowhere to been seen. Turds. 

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