So I'm on my way to the grocery store the other afternoon, and Mrs. Minivan Soccer Mom's driving on my rear bumper. Like, I'm not even kidding. I kept tapping on my brakes like an asshole JUST to see if she'd hit me. Miss Thing was in a HURRY. CASSEROLE! HER CASSEROLE WAS MISSING AN INGREDIENT.

I bet.

Or Baby No. 3 needed diapers.

Or she was just an impatient bitch.

I'm gonna go with the latter.

I'll admit, I've been a bumper-rider. I have. But it's moments like this that make me realize why Minivan Soccer Moms should suck it. Or. I mean. Why you should keep a respectable distance between yourself and the vehicle ahead of you. Yes, that.

So she follows me down the road, around the corner and into the parking lot of the grocery store, where she QUICKLY peels away from behind me and into a different aisle. She rushes to the closest adjacent parking spaces to the store entrance, while I lazily turn my wheel and pull into the first spot I see. In the back. Naturally. Whatever. Turns out I have legs that can walk.

SUCH. A HURRY. MUST. PARK MINIVAN.

I get out of my car, grab my purse and head toward the store. She! SHE is busy maneuvering her minivan BACKWARD into a spot three spaces from the front. Pulls forward, backs up, pulls forward again. She was in a huge hurry to BACK into her parking space three spots from the front.

I glared. All I could see was the scrunchy holding her hair in a ponytail while she continued to back into her parking spot. Once PERFECT, she gets out of her minivan, opens her trunk, walks to the back, pulls out her recyclable grocery bags, then FINALLY heads toward the store entrance. Meanwhile, I'm already inside looking for a bumper sticker that says "Eat Shit Soccer Mom."

krittabug