Fuck you.
Seriously. Are you stupid? Do you not understand the rules and etiquette of a crowded Costco parking lot? You are insane. Or you better be insane. There better be something wrong with you: mentally or physically or neurologically or something. This is bull shit.
Do you know how long I have been driving around this parking lot? 10 minutes at least. Who knew that Costco would be so crowded on a Thursday at noon? I didn’t. Yes, I know Costco has $1.50 hot dogs and those berry smoothies for really cheap, but still. I don’t know who I’m more mad at: Costco for not having a bigger parking lot; or you for being so incredibly stupid.
On second thought – It’s you.
Are you unable to see the distinct flashing of hazard lights? I had them on, and they were meant to be a signal that said, “I’m waiting for this fucking parking spot.” Do blinking lights not register in your pupils? You know, maybe they don’t, because you’re so damn old.
Yes, I went there. Agism is not beneath me. It’s a relevant accusation in this situation. This time you’re stealing my fucking spot at Costco, but next time you might be plowing right IN to Costco, hell bent on getting a year’s supply of metamucil and Old lady vitamins, uncaring of the countless pedestrians and Costco workers being crushed beneath your boat car. Get your grandson to do your shopping for the sake of this town. That is, if you haven’t already severed that grandparental bond with your lack of presents, your constant say agains, and your oppressive old lady farts (don’t act like you can’t hear them).
Alright, wow, I lost my train of thought here. What was I yelling at you for? I’m kind of out of breath because I had to park a half a mile away just to get my big bag of peanuts, my soaps, and some fucking samples at this place. God damn. Okay, yes, now I remember. You’re the bitch that stole my spot. Don’t you walk away from me. This is serious. Ma’am…what are you…don’t call the police…I NEED MY PEANUTS!
Stumble It!