Loonies On the Path - LVII - T-Bone Mama

Black Bird
I guess you must have read my last post about idiot Memphis drivers, eh? I say this because you look exactly like the kind of Memphis woman I just finished describing as having an attitude problem. When you first got out to pretend you cared whether I was hurt or not I thought you had spikes on top of your head. But no, it was just that black woman look that ... no one at all wears. I don't think I've ever seen that hairstyle before in my entire life. Not ever.

But enough about your hair. I'd like to talk about what you were thinking. I'm going to tell you what I think you were thinking based on what you did and you correct me if I'm wrong, OK?

Now people will treat me with the respect I deserve!
OK, I'm driving straight down the aisle in the parking lot, traveling in the direction that the arrows marking the lot indicated I should be going. I see you in your big-assed gray Chevy SUV driving across three aisles, rolling over empty parking spaces that are clearly marking the places you are driving over as not being a path. No, it wasn't a path you were driving on. It was parking spaces. You were driving diagonally across the parking lot, ignoring every single rule.

And I know you saw me coming.

And I know you heard me honking my horn at you.

And I know you assumed because you're an egotistical black woman in a big SUV that you can just bully other drivers and they'll cower before you, because you ignored the fact that I was there and honking and you just tried to bull through me, leaving it for me to figure out a way to get out of your way, even though "your way" was driving diagonally across the clearly marked lanes of the parking lot.

And I honked and stayed in my own lane and wasn't at all intimidated by you or your stupid plastic SUV bumper that you were more than willing to kill me with.

And you hit me.

What the fuck were you thinking??!!
You were willing to kill me, weren't you? That's why you asked "are you OK" with your voice shaking after you rammed into the side of my car, isn't it? You were all puffed up and "don't you mess with me" right up until you T-boned the side of my car and had to actually face me with your real face and not from the safety of your driver's seat, hidden behind glass and a big plastic bumper. Once you actually hit someone (me) and had to get out of your SUV and stand toe-to-toe with another human being you went from being a bad-ass mutha to shitting yourself out of fear that I was going to sue the living fuck out of you or punch you in your face or both.

But you know what really got me about all of this? It was that even after you hit me, and were totally and completely at fault, you still went ahead and parked in the space you were so anxious to get.

Am I inside the lines?
What a total cunt!

And it wasn't even a good parking space. I mean, there was nothing special about that space. It wasn't all that close. But you wanted it so badly that you literally rammed into the side of me in order to get it.

You better move, pole!

You're lucky I have a much bigger crisis in my life to worry about. I honestly didn't care that much that you hit me. I mean, I think you were a totally narcissistic shit for what you did, but beyond that I really didn't care. I was driving my old car, the one I tried to trade in after buying a new car only to be offered less than the price of the tires on the car for it, so it wasn't as if I was crying over the marks on my car. Your plastic SUV pretend-bumper didn't even dent my good old American metal so I figure I can buff out most of the marks you left.

And mostly I just don't care.
I don't even care

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