4/6/10

What Happens When Someone Yells At You

Every day I take Buddy to a nearby field to play fetch. It's at the bottom of our neighborhood. In theory you could walk there, but since in theory I have as much time on my hands as a shoe elf I pop the dog in the car, zip down there, park, throw the ball, and come home. It's a nice little system. (By the way, I highly recommend getting a lab. They love playing fetch so much it takes just a few minutes a day to wear them out and make them head over heels in love with you.)

So anywhoooo, I drive down to the field today, park by the curb, and proceed to exercise the dog. Five minutes later the grumpiest man of the universe (I know this because he was actually wearing a hat that read "Grumpiest Man of the Universe." Ok, he wasn't but he should have been.) pulls up, gets out of the car, and hustles over to confront me. I have just picked up Buddy's digested breakfast, so you can just picture me holding a bag of dog poo as this man is huffing his way over to me just as fast as he can move. He hollers (yes, hollers!) "IS THAT YOUR CAR????" Well, since there is no one but me around for a mile it's quite obvious that it's my car but maybe he's trying to set me up. I tell him it is. And he hollers some more. "YOU CAN'T PARK THERE. THIS IS A PRIVATE STREET. A PRIVATE STREET. DO YOU HEAR ME? A PRIVATE STREET!!!!"

Clearly, it is a private street. So I tell him that I just live up the road but he cuts me off and hollers "IT'S A PRIVATE STREET! NO PARKING!!! PRIVATE STREET!" He stalks away and takes his time easing himself into his car, buckling his seat belt, and glaring at me one more time. I, on the other hand, burst into tears. I would suck at any kind of career that involved raised voices or confrontation. (Oh wait. Isn't that motherhood?) People yelling at me always makes me cry and makes me feel about 2 inches tall.

I went home and allowed myself the delicious time to plan revenge. To plot nasty get-back-at-the-grumpy-man tricks. David even told me to call the city and make the man pay to post a No Parking sign on his street since there isn't one there right now.

And then I moved on.

6 comments:

rebekah said...

well shit grumpy man. back off of the shoe elf.

Bekka-Reeeeeeee said...

I would have flung the poo....but you are obviously waaaay nicer than me. I agree with Uncle David's suggestion - make the man go to the city and PAY to have them put up a No Parking sign. Until then, there is nothing that should stop you from keeping up with your routine. You weren't blocking traffic, you weren't blocking his drive way, you weren't parked in a handicapped spot...I don't see why the doo-doo head had to yell at you!!

Old Men Reflect said...

Iodine in car tank.
Frozen urine thrown on his yard.
Ad in paper for incall/outcall massage using his home phone.
Combining heated gasoline and DUZ detergent makes wonderful napalm.
A banana stuck in his tail pipe.
You can buy feces perfume at the magic store-Spray on front door.
Buy magazine subscriptions using his address and name. (Use reverse directory on google)
Call CSP for drunk driving once each month using his license plates.
Get the picture?

cathy said...

this previous comment is from my uncle. he has a lot of enemies, apparently.

Vivi said...

How do crabby people live so long?

He was probably crouched down behind his smelly curtain and crushed velvet couch just waiting for you to drive by and commit this heinous crime against HIS PRIVATE STREET.

AnnMarie & Nick said...

I always read your comments just to see what "Old Man Reflect" has to say- LOVE IT!