Correspondence (aka Friday rant)

Dear Man in your car,

When an ambulance tears up the street behind you, sirens screaming, all lights flashing, you let them past. I don't care if your light is red (the probable 6 or 7 of us who had the green weren't going anywhere in order to let the amulance pass), you get your ass out of the way.

Not only is it common decency, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to not let the ambulance by.

And you didn't even have the excuse you were on the phone and didn't notice. You are an Idiot (yes, with a capital "I"). You might argue that your idiocy is not your fault, but rather, falls squarely on the shoulders of genetics. Perhaps. But even idiots can learn simple things like getting out of the way of an ambulance.

Just sayin'

Jazz

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Dear Coworkers,

I know I'm being totall anal here, but let me explain a really difficult concept to you.

You have lunch in the kitchen. You pick up the sponge to wash your dishes. You wash your dishes. So far so good.

Now let me explain the really difficult part. Listen carefully. Once you're finished with the sponge YOU. WRING. IT. OUT. Yes indeedy, you wring the damn sponge out because otherwise the water oozes out all over the place. And I end up mopping up the crappy water.

How hard can this be to understand??? You've all got college degrees for crisssake. WRING OUT THE DAMN SPONGE!!!

You are not sponge worthy.

Snarkily,

Jazz

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Dear Man at the magazine shop who bought a scratch lotto ticket and won $5000,

Congratulations. Seriously.

For once not at all cynically,

Jazz

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Dear woman in the metro,

When you wear white quasi see through leggings you really should NOT wear a black thong. Seriously.

Why is it so much of this correspondence has to do with horribly dressed people? Are you all blind?

Plus, the floppy flat ass in leggings thing is really not something that should be imposed on others. Keep it at home.

Oh, and watch What Not To Wear, it might do you good. But then again, you'll probably never learn.

Nastily,

Jazz

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Dear guy on the bike,

Don't you dare bitch me out. Don't you dare you stupid fuck!

I had a stop. I came to a full stop. I saw you coming the other way. But hey, stupid me, I figured you would stop because, you idiot, let me explain a fundmental fact to you. When you are on a bike you are considered a vehicle. You are subject to the same laws as the rest of us when it comes to stop signs and stop lights and the rules of the road. I was in my right to make my left turn. I had arrived at the corner way before you.

Granted, some drivers have no respect for cyclists - I know, I've been on a bike. But - newsflash - respect goes both ways you stupid git.

And remember, next time we meet that I drive an Altima. I am way bigger than you and could do you way more damage than you could do me. And I would have no trouble beating what's left of you to a bloody pulp with your bicycle.

It would give me great satisfaction if truth be told. And I'm not even PMSing.

Way past annoyedly,

Jazz

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Dear Blogger,

Why is it that when I have a draft saved and I post it, it inserts itself down the line of posts to when it was written. This is a brand new development. It used to work fine.

Is it because I've discovered that when you won't let me post comments, all I have to do is go into someone's blog who is not on blogger and then come back to the blogger posts, which, for some reason allows me to comment? Because, yes, despite your quest for total blogosphere domination some people still do not blog with you. I've found a loophole in your hatred of me!!!

Is this why you're punishing me and forcing me to take my draft, copy it, paste it in a whole new post and then publish it?

Why do you hate me so?

Whiningly,

Jazz