Tuesday, August 23, 2005


I got honked at twice on the way to work. TWICE I tell you.

For some of you in highly traffic ridden cities this may not be something that you would even notice let alone blog about, but for little old me here in Minneapolis... it's a rare occurrence.

Midwesterners don't like the horn. They really would rather purse their lips and grumble under their breath than flat out swear and honk at you.

This morning, I was on my way to work and decided to stop for a Mocha at Starbucks. There is a wacky parking lot at Starbucks as it is part of a strip of fast food restaurants. Also, because we're in Minnesota and you can never make your parking lots or street accesses easy. They must appear to get you somewhere but really never do. It's a thing... we like to keep the new people driving in circles, it's part of our passive aggressive nature.

I pulled into said wacky parking lot and it is true that I did not look to my left to see if someone was coming. So, yes, I'm sorry little convertible lady with REA on the license plate. Don't you think I already realized my error when I saw you? Do you really think it was necessary to lay on your horn and flail your hands wildly in the air. Added to the fact that I hadn't had any Mocha yet which might have been the cause of my obvious faux paux.

Onto Mr. Honker #2.

I received my tall Mocha (no soy, low fat, hold the whip, extra shot bullshit for me thanks) and proceeded out to my car.

I should mention here that last summer for some reason the bolts in the driver-side door of my car fell out meaning that I could no longer open the door and have it stay open, it just goes where it wants to, which is usually closed.

So I put my change purse and keys in one hand and my Mocha in the other - opened the door with my pinky. You would think when I opened my door with my pinky that it would not be forcefully swinging open - which it wasn't. It was slowly opening. so I reached in to put my Mocha in the cup holder, so I could situate myself, as one does. My door lightly rests on the one next to it.


Blaring honking comes from my immediate left. I snap my head around with my slightly damp curls swinging to the side. Inside the car is this crisp shirt, blue tooth wearing, clean shaven, ASS HOLE swearing at me about denting his car with my door. WTF dude! Like that little thing was going to scratch your stupid volvo you ass. So I did the act of pretending like I cared looked at the side of his car and shrugged my shoulders as if to suggest "wow, I just can't see any damage on your big expensive car, so sorry mister."

So get this. He doesn't even say anything to me. Just waits till I pull out, exits his car and goes in to Starbucks to get his soy latte non-fat grande 2 shots pain in the ass coffee. All the while pretending to look super important with his star trek blue tooth thingy attached to his ear.

PUHLEEEESE Chill the F*CK out people. It's morning for chrissake.



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