Saturday, November 17, 2007

Reason #4852 I Shouldn't Own a Gun

On the way home from Mina's first birthday party of the today I had to stop at a gas station to fill up one of my tires. One of my neighbors was nice enough to knock on my door and let me know that he noticed I had one going flat. I thought that was pretty damn swell. Wasn't it?

I pulled into one gas station and their air machine was broken. I will refrain from going into my thoughts on a fucking AIR machine being broken. (Seriously. It's air. Did they run out?).

Next stop was the gas station by my house. Their air machine is free. Honestly, I never understood paying for air in the first place.

There are two non-handicap parking spots one can park in the get access to the machine. One was taken and one was blocked by some asshole pulling out of it as slooooowly as he possibly could.

If it would have been some old person just being elderly and shit, I would have given them a pass, but it wasn't. It was some dude in a POS van, yakking on his cell phone, not paying attention.

Well, not paying attention until he saw my eyelasers fixed on his location. But did that shake him into the real world--the real world where people are courteous and aware of their surroundings? Nope.

Not until I mouthed (mouthed, not said. My kids were in the car) "you need to get out of the way" did he finish his 37 point turn--still having a cell phone conversation--out of the spot I needed.

I thought he had left the parking lot, but was mostly intent on filling up my flaccid rear tire. When I looked up after returning the air hose, I saw that he had stopped his car directly behind mine.

I knew I just needed to get in and put my car in reverse and he probably would have gotten the hint. I knew that the best thing would be to just keep my mouth shut and give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he thought I was going into the gas station. I hadn't gotten my very visible children out of the car. I didn't have my purse on me. It was plainly obvious all I needed was some air for my tires, BUT maybe he was so engrossed in his obviously important phone call he didn't notice that I HAVE SHIT TO DO.

But I didn't keep my mouth shut.

Hands on hips, cocked head and all, I spat a "REALLY?!" at him.

He moved. Quickly.

At times like these, I don't really need a gun.

"Pissed Off Chaylene" is scary enough.

4 comments:

Michael K said...

I think you might have "issues". Like murder style issues. Please don't kill me.

Blowing Shit Up With Gas said...

If it's any consolation, I kind of mentally giggled reading "flaccid rear tire."

Chaylene said...

Michael: As long as you don't piss me off, all will be well.

Just kidding. I can't get pissed at someone in a Santa hat.

BSUWG: Flaccid is such a great word, isn't it? Well, maybe not to men.

Earth Muffin said...

I also blog, so I was looking forward to checking yours out. I have more time to "read" the computer at work than home (you have kids, you understand), so at the end of the day yesterday, I sat down to check out "salty meat". Guess what...my school district has it blocked. Guess why..."tasteless and obscene". I thought you'd appreciate that. Of course, it has nothing to do with the content, just the name...but who wouldn't want to be considered "tasteless and obscene" once in a while?

P.S. I enjoy your writing thoroughly. You are a hoot!

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