Okay, so we live on infamous Roswell Road. As I was on my way home from the post office, I let a car turning left cut in front of me. I was going to let someone else go, but he didn't seem to realize what courtesy looks like in this city, so I went without him. Keep in mind then, there was a rather lengthy gap between me and the car in front of me. Which is my only explanation for why someone tried to kill me. This fancy Lexus/BMW lookalike comes flying onto the road and I honestly thought they were going into the "suicide lane" (which, by the way, is illegal, people--it's called the "left turn lane," not the "I'm-too-lazy-to-drive-to-a-light-to-turn-left lane"--you're only supposed to use it when turning left from that road). Instead, they were actually pulling out in front of me. Luckily, the car in the right lane saw what was up and hung back so I could swerve in front of him. Mr. Fancy-Pants Fake Import Car swerved back and then right behind me.

My eyes actually widened. So much, in fact, that it hurt a little. I thought that only happened in cartoons.

This might not have bothered me as much had I not been honked at in the parking lot of the post office. What did I do? NOTHING, I tell you! I was backing up from my parking spot slowly, when this lady in a red car (equally as import-sports-car-oriented, but probably something more like a Honda) with a blonde as Gwen Stefani ponytail turns down that aisle at top speed. She honks immediately, like I had any chance of seeing her! But get this, I didn't stop! Haha! Take that, you with your fried hair and pretentious car!

Big deal. She just took my space. Of course.

And by the way, the pollen in this city is amazing. The parking lot oil slicks look like green sludge. The whole place kinda looks like one those cheesey shows on Nickelodeon slimed it. Gak. It looks like gak.

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