I hate people.
In particular, I hate physically healthy people who nevertheless feel the need to impede my day by getting on the elevator and hitting “2”. Yesterday, I watched as a stunning blond, perfect figure, perfect legs, waited until the elevator door was closing then stuck her tan, toned arm out to stop it and stepped inside smiling as she pressed the “2” button. You know what doesn’t look so stunning, sweetheart? My Beaner’s aka Biggby mocha chill all over that blindingly white top of yours!
Seriously?? It’s one freaking flight of stairs!! I realize that you’re probably one of those over-metabolic freaks who can down a McDonald’s super sized fries every damn day without adding a mere jiggle to your cellulite deficient form but I think the bloody nose from my upward thrust might just mar your dainty face for a day or two.
God, I wish an assault conviction wouldn’t muck up my career.