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Allow me to set the scene. Pulling out of the parking garage this morning I see a man on a bike on the road. He signals to turn right onto the street where I am pulling out. We are both making right turns, he onto to my street, me onto his, so there should be no conflict, right? Right. Apparantly not. Apparantly he wasn't attempting to turn right onto my street, but onto the sidewalk on the other side of me. Not realizing this, I ease up into the intersection and into his path. Spandex boy screams "SHIT!" and starts pounding on the hood of my car! He's yelling at me! Yelling! "Can't you see I'm trying to turn, bitch?" I just sat there and stared at him. I didn't know what to do. All I could do was think of Legally Blonde. Isn't that ridiculous? A lunatic is attempting to put a dent in my pretty, pretty car, and I think of Legally Blonde. "Exercise produces endorphins, and endorphins make you happy!" Clearly, that is not the case. Unless this man has a chemical imbalance which causes exercise to produce whatever hormone makes you mean, mean, mean. Now, I must go to bed.
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