Pedestrian Rage

So I almost killed a woman last night. Why, you may ask, would a sweet and delicate flower such as you, Emily, do such an uncharacteristically violent thing? (Stop that! I can hear you laughing. I am a delicate flower).

Cuz bitch almost ran me over.

I was minding my own business, walking down the street in Santa Monica.... Ahh, but there in lies the problem. Who dares walk in Santa Monica? Don't I have a fancy car in the garage so I can drive it everywhere so people can see me in it? Maybe she didn't care because she figured I must be poor if I was walking. But I digress.

I attempted to cross the street, when I had the right to do so, when I had "the walking man" symbol giving me the a-okay. But this lady never even turned her head toward me, she just popped a right with not a care in the world.

She came about two inches from taking out my left leg. I had to contort my body and pretty much fall on the hood of her car to avoid getting hit. I screamed some obscenities, slammed my hand down on her hood really super hard to scare her, and told her to watch where the hell she was going. She mumbled something through her half-open window that she was sorry. Then she sped off.

I was about this close to opening her door, hauling her out of her car, and beating the everloving crap out of her. The lawyer in me cried restraint. In retrospect, I wish I had popped her one. Or two. Or maybe just tried to run her over to see how she likes it.

See, I AM a delicate little flower. If you don't agree, I'll pop you too. Jerk.