Every once and now and then, I like to remind them they are being a dick or Mrs. Douche by gunning it behind them and taking the turn on the second lane.
This time, I took the outer lane to get passed the light, got in the left, swerved back into the right and cut of the lacksidasical ( yeah my made up word for millennial pricks ) prick taking his time through the light.
He than ventured on to follow me into my gas station with my peeps, where they all know and love me. I could feel him steaming but too afraid to say anything in front of my gas station gang. I almost said something, but I stopped myself, rather him be steamed about nothing other than his self-centered world and leaving me to stay through another stop-light.
Why give the dick the satisfaction. Right?
Well, that fucker was still steaming and followed me back home half-way like I was going to do another break-check on him. Oh, yes did I forgot to mention that part--- don't trail my car's ass like you want to fuck it or I will break-check you!
I just ignored him as he tried to follow and then he just left on the exit out of my hood with his tail tucked in.
My favorite part is that he will be milling this over in his head, hating himself for not being brave enough to say anything to me.
I know that feeling, and I am happy to help him figure out that saying something hurts less than keeping it in!
Life lesson by the Blonde!
PS. I have over 20 years of abuse logged on this blog and yes, sometimes PTSD gets the best of me with the wrong liquor - aka: vodka and shitty whiskey. But I have never gone after someone, so as a dick that is stone cold sober, what the fuck?