Hey, you there who’s behind the cash register at the Jewel. I’m here to pay for my groceries, not give you my life’s story. Don’t make extended conversation with me because I’m already pissed off that I have to pay $8.00 for a fricking pound of bacon. So, if you don’t want to have that bacon slapped upside your head, keep your conversation to, “Hello, and Thank you – have a nice day.”
Hey, you there who calls me at 3 a.m. with a sales pitch. Do you realize what time it is? Oh, that’s right – you must be calling from India where most of our call marketing outsourcing goes. So, here in the good ‘ol U.S. of A, I need to remind you that it’s FRICKING 3 A.M! I don’t want a credit card at 3 a.m….I want SLEEP. Zzzzzzz’s….Thanks Nocturnal Dude from India…..
Hey, you there who walks up the same side of the sidewalk that I am along with my two huge German Shepards and then suddenly stops to appear frightened to come face to face with two huge German Shepards. Why don’t you just cross the damn street where the “other” sidewalk is? I know, I know….that would make too much sense, wouldn’t it?
Hey, you there who thinks you can text, drive, put on makeup and yell at your kids in the back seat at the same time because they’re hitting one another…. Oh, and have your seat practically in lounge mode so you can barely see over the dashboard. Let’s remove a few things from this scenario…..First of all, let’s remove YOU. Now, that’s better!
Hey, you there with your hair finessed and placed just right with flawless makeup and expensive wardrobe while standing in line at the Starbucks at 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning…..WTF? Did you get up, like, at 5 a.m. to look like that? I can’t stand spending more than 30 minutes primping let alone 3 hours. FOR-GET-IT.
Hey, you there who parks in a handicap parking spot knowing full well that I saw you get out and walk without appearing to have any sort of handicap whatsoever….I wish I were a cop right now so I could right your sorry ass a ticket.
Hey, you there who came up with the great idea of filling out a FAFSA form every year…. You hated your parents, didn’t you? You dropped out of college, right? You’re just a pain in my ass, but I HAVE to do this every…..single….year until my kid graduates college. You do it for me just like those kids who took the ACT/SAT tests for the other kids and got busted for it, but I’ll give you all my info along with a blood sample.
Hey, you there who came up with bringing boots back. How am I supposed to know what boots to wear with what? I HATE sticking my pants into a boot – it looks like I’m missing my horse. Can we please change the dress code back to Keds or something that I can apply white shoe polish?
Hey, you there……Are you there? Hello? I’m talking to myself again, aren’t I?