Unless you live under a rock, I am sure you have some inkling of how to deal with people. Most of us do it with a modicum of kindness and go about our general duties. I appreciate that. My life was made a little bit easier when my neighbor held my elevator doors open, thus stopping me from being squished to a shrinky dink between the psychotically quickly closing doors. (The elevator, she has issues. Maybe she feels violated and doesn't want just anyone alighting. I don't know. I'm not a fucking psychologist.)
While I have been known to be unreasonably bitchy from time to time, I am not a jackass. If I see you coming, I'll hold the door. If I see you trip, I'll help you up. I may laugh my ass off, but I'll offer a helping hand. If I see your wife having sex with my old college roommate, I'll get really drunk and tell you about it at your 3rd anniversary party, but only after her parents and your parents are gone and the kids are asleep. See how nice I am?
And to think that I have been foolish enough to think that most of us are polite enough to conduct ourselves in like manners. Silly me! Which brings us to YOU (pointing all 8 fingers and two thumbs at JACKASS OF THE DAY) . C'mere. Don't hide. Tell us your scintillating tale, we're listening, really. Yes, my eyes are naturally this shade of "whothefuckdoyouthinkyouare?"
Seems that we have someone better than everybody else on Yokota Air Force Base. Somebody who thinks that his (JACKASS!) parking privileges are so superior that he (BIG! JACKASS!) can tell people to and I quote, "Get the fuck out of my way!" before backing into a public parking space. Apparently the reserved sign that he (JACKASS! GIGANTE!) sees is invisible to the rest of us. Not only does this troglodyte bless all of us peons with his (ASS! OF JACK!) erudite verbal warning, he (JACK! ASS! HOLE!) then proceeds to provide our (what he must interpret as an obviously mentally stunted) community with a visual of what "get the fuck out of my way!" means by damn near running over my husband. Jackass didn't even slow down.
Listen up buddy and get in here real close like, because some people actually think that I am sane enough to work with their five year olds, and I have a sparkly military spouse and spotless kindergarten teacher reputation to uphold. I just got my husband back from the desert. If you attempt to run over my husband again? If you tell him to get the fuck out of your way again? If you look at him again? If I so much as hear you mention him over a beer with your drinking buddies at the club? I'll park my car in your spot. By car, I mean my foot. And by your spot, I mean your ass. Are we clear?
When I think about all the times in these past two years I have verbally ranted, raved, and spit on the middle schoolers asking them "Why on God's Green Earth they think it is proper to treat their peers like this," and by "like this" I mean, like shit, I need only look to this shining military man as a stellar example of all that is good and right in this world.
Wear your Jackass of the Day award proudly. You earned it.