It's hard out here for a gimp. When I'm not being shoulder-slammed by glass doors, I'm being bypassed in line as if I'm not even there, and whacked inside my protective T-Hoe case! I won't go into the line-jumper here, but she was discussed on my super-secret blog.
Wednesday, I went in Save A Lot for some replacement foods for those lost in the Great Electrical Outage of 2022. When I got back to T-Hoe, I took a moment to write down the amount of the transaction in my checkbook register. I'm an old fogey like that.
I had a moment of PTSD, and reached for my right shoulder. It was fine. But in doing so, I looked out the passenger windows of T-Hoe, and saw a late-20s blond wench who had just SLAMMED her door into the side of T-Hoe as she got out. She reached back inside her small white SUV, and grabbed a little boy by his arm, dragging him out.
"Umm... HELLO! I'm sitting in here! WHY DON'T YOU SLAM YOUR DOOR INTO MY CAR AGAIN? What is your problem, you idiot!!!"
Yeah. I said it. I KNOW she heard me! How could she not? She was standing inches from the side of T-Hoe. She hurried into the store, not daring to look my way.
What the ACTUAL EFF is wrong with people???
There was no reason for her slamming. Yes, as I have revealed before, I park T-Hoe on the right side of a parking space, to leave more room for my driver's door to open. HOWEVER, as I have also pointed out, I do not park on the line, and I do not park over the line. I was within my space. In fact, when I went into the store, there was NOBODY parked on my right. So Blond Wench KNEW when she parked there how close I was to the line. SHE is the one who chose to park her car as close to me as she did.
I was spittin' mad! Not only was that a rumpushole thing to do, but I THINK SHE MIGHT HAVE KNOCKED SOME DUST OFF T-HOE'S SIDE!
Seriously. T-Hoe was born in 2008. He is not in pristine condition. Some of his plastic door trim is curling away from the metal. But that doesn't mean he's a punching bag for self-important Blond Wenches to take out their frustrations!
Restoring my faith in humanity, two good eggs uplifted my spirits to counteract these two ne'er-do-wells. When I was trying to cash in my $500 scratcher winner, the gal at the Gas Station Chicken Store couldn't do it.
"I don't think you can cash one this big, but when might one of the owners be here to do it?"
"Yeah, I can only go up to $300. Man Owner should be here tomorrow. At least until noon."
"Okay. I can come back."
Working Man behind me: "They'll cash it for you over at Country Mart. They did it for me before."
Soda Drinking Woman at the soda fountain: "I tried at Country Mart, and they said they couldn't do it. I had a $500 winner on Saturday, and I couldn't find anywhere that would cash it. Until I went to Walmart, and only the cashier at the cigarette-selling register could do it. So you could try there."
Working Man: "Country Mart is worth a try."
"I will try it. I'm headed over there anyway to buy some of their dark meat chicken special. So I'll ask."
Soda Drinking Woman: "They might. It could have been because I was there on a Saturday. They might do it for you today."
See? So many people willing to help me with my $500. Well. Maybe not SO many. But enough to counteract those two rumpus orifices.