So to help speed things along, I shall tell the story of last night in which I talked smack to an old man.
(Ok, he wasn't really old so much as upper-middle-aged, and I know no one is surprised by the fact that I talked smack to him.)
Tandra and I had the good fortune to meet chalcedonygrey and her husband orrin (blog) last night and they were kind enough to take us to dinner. We drove separately, Tandra and I leading in the Mystique since our guests weren't as familiar with the city. On the way there, a group of jackasses in a money-colored (You know, that ivory cream color that just looks rich. If you've read the Great Gatsby, you know what I'm talking about.) Infinity Q45 slowly, languidly, leisurely pulled RIGHT THE FUCK OUT IN FRONT OF US and proceeded to mosey along at 30 (we had been going 45 before this). Given the fact that they were indeed driving a rich-colored rich car (Ok, it's not a Bentley, but shut up, this is Wichita for fuck's sake), this immediately inspired impressions of overprivileged, snotty rich kids with an inappropriate sense of entitlement in the car daddy bought them - a demographic Tandra and I are particularly averse to most of the time. Tandra, who subscribes to the same driving philosophies I do, did not take kindly to this dumb-shit action and appropriately leaned on her horn as the Infinitards got lined up in their (our) lane in front of us. They, being Infinitards, thought it would be great to "get us back" and tried to pull the old "Yo, Ima slam on my brakes and freak them out" move. But Tandra is a wily creature and was ready for this maneuver. Unfazed, she pulled the Mystique's empty front license plate holder to within about three feet of the Infinitard's rear bumper and managed to hold it there, give or take a foot, regardless of their spastic stop-and-go attempts to shake us or piss us off. Tandra grew increasingly furious at them for "fucking with me while my baby is in the car," a line of rationale whose credibility she immediately obliterated when she dropped the gas to the floor causing the car to downshift, zoomed around them, pulled in front of them, and in turn slammed on her brakes, only doing it properly, slowing down to about 20 and holding that speed steady. As soon as they acted like they wanted to change lanes and go around, we took off.
The encounter was basically over at that point, but Tandra and I, convinced of the rightness of our ways and the wrongness of the Infiniturds' (they started it!) were both quite annoyed. We pulled into the restaurant parking lot and found that the only empty parking space within reasonable distance of the front door was being "encroached upon" (read: half covered by) by a crookedly parked money-colored Cadillac Escalade. More impressions of people having money and a sense of entitlement thinking they can park however the fuck they please just because they have a big intimidating truck and a nice expensive car all rolled into one. Tandra "accidentally" thumped her car door against said Escalade a few times as she was getting out, since it was technically in her space anyway. As I got out of the car and went to the rear, I saw a man, probably 55 or so, walking towards us with his wife in tow. He looked at me and said, "She just bounced her door off my car!" Still pumped up from our dance with the Infiniturds, I immediately responded with, "Maybe that wouldn't happen if you parked straight."
Much to my surprise, the guy simply said, "Yeah, you're probably right. My wife told me I had feet of room on that side." I was quite confused as I had expected the guy to be equally rebellious, and his immediate concession of wrongness threw me off guard. His wife was consipcuously quiet and seemed like she was trying to shrink into the background. With that, we went inside the restaurant. I told Tandra I was certain we'd get into a fight before the night was out.
Grace and Orrin were great dinner company and we had a good time telling stories of crimes gone by, and I avoided a couple stories from the past because we just didn't have the time to tell them.
And now, my Big & Tasty is cold. Thanks a lot, boring asses.