It’s that time again, time for some Passive Aggressive Letter’s from the Suburbs. This time reflecting on some occasions I really had to bite my tongue. I’m getting it all off my chest, the things I didn’t say this week…. that I really wish I did.
Dear Oblivious Driver in the School Parking Lot,
Hello, we can see you. yes you, just sitting there in the middle of the no parking zone clogging up the works. Do you really think that every single time you come to pick up your child you miraculously get the best spot in the lot? How self involved are you? Do you not see the signs that clearly indicate “Kiss and Ride Only”? It’s been in every newsletter ever sent home. This is DROP OFF AND PICK UP ONLY. Yet there you sit, all smug, texting away, and it’s really starting to tick me off! Get the hell out of the drop off zone you self involved fool.
One Parking Lot Raging Mama
As I sat next to you on the train for my two hour ride to Toronto, I had the unfortunate experience of learning your life story. How’s that? You are a loud talker. Worse that that. You are a loud cell phone talker. Perhaps you thought your conversation was endearing and the rest of the passengers on the VIA rail wanted to hear one side of your life story? We did not. It was actually kinda painful to listen to you drone on and on for 45 minutes about the MANY ways your evil girlfriend had wronged you. All I wanted to yell was: For the love of all that is holy stop yapping on your cell phone about your ex-girlfriend and how many times she has kicked you out of the house, or at least take the hint and stop going back to her!
Signed the VIA Passenger with way too much personal information about you now.
Dear 80 Year Old Man At The Mall,
At first I thought you were just being friendly with your little head nods and your wave. Then I thought maybe I knew you? Then I realized with your wink and your come hither look? You were getting your flirt on? OMG Seriously, this really might be my demographic now. Hangs head. Sorry Honey, I’m just not that into you. Shudder.
Happily Married To Someone Your Daughters Age.
Your turn! Feel free to tell me about when you had to bite your tongue this week, or at least that ‘m not the only one getting hit on by guys using a cane!