Thanks For Nothing, Jaguar Boy



So this morning I got into the parking garage at work a little bit late. The spaces I usually like to park in were taken and I had to park in a different space. While I was struggling to get me, my purse, my lunch bag, my book bag, and my travel tea mug out of the car, this guy in this fancy schmancy Jag-U-Ahhhr, makes a right turn, backs up once or twice and lines up to park in the space next to me. The problem being that I've got all my stuff lined up on the ground next to my car while I lock the door. So I have to lock the door, gather up all my stuff and flatten myself against my car so that he can get into the space. There were hundreds of spaces in the area that he could have taken instead. There was one on the other side of me. There was another one right behind him. He could've simply thrown the car into reverse and slammed into that space. But no! He had to have THAT particular space. And so -- flattened against my car with all my stuff in my arms -- I inched my way down between the two cars to my trunk. I carry large -- 50 oz. -- bottles of water in my trunk. (No butt jokes, please.) It's because I'm dieting. I try to drink a full one every day and it's easiest to just keep my stash in my trunk. So while I'm doing this -- Jaguar boy leaps out of his car and makes a run toward the elevator. He looks right at me -- and doesn't say a word -- like, 'thanks for getting out of the way.' Nothing. Like he doesn't see me! Feh! Ugh! When I got to the door of the building, he was stopped talking to a colleague and it took every bone in my body not to swing my book bag at his knee caps. He was less than helpful on the elevator too. One of those guys that hits the 'close door' button before you've managed to exit. So, here's to you, Jag-U-Ahhr Boy! Next time you shave, stand a little closer to the blade! I'm thinking pulling a Salahi and going to an Oscar party or two. And next to Sandra Bullock, she's my favorite actress.