Woo hoo. Yay for you. You really got me! You spit chewing tobacco all on the back end of my car! Yay! Score one for you!
When I went back into the restaurant to ask if they knew your name, they tried to find it for me, showing me your credit card slip. Yes. They showed me the slip with your name on it. The server said, "well he wasn't very nice to me either," before she gladly showed me your signed slip. You should really work on your penmanship.
That royal blue MTSU shirt with the white writing on the back gives the impression that maybe you've been to college. The 20-something girl accompanying you was attractive and I felt so sorry for her that she wasn't riding with you and didn't get a chance to see you make a butt out of yourself. I really did like her dark brown, straight bob hairdo, pulled up in a barrette on the top. You know, mine looks similar when I have time to flat iron it. The two of you sat perched at your booth near the bar, her totally clueless to your inconsiderate behavior you had just exhibited to a lady, her two small children and her husband out for a Sunday lunch.
I explained to the restaurant staff how you came zipping up a different aisle and flew through one parking spot into the one I was clearly pulling into. How I sat there for a minute waiting for you to back up into your proper space so that I could continue into my spot. You glared at me like a fool, like I was less entitled to my spot that I had started to pull into before you flew into from the spot in front of me. Like I was a peon in my wagon compared to you in your dark blue somewhat recent Envoy-type vehicle.
You with your spacey-looking sunglasses and short brown hair. How I backed up, took a spot further away from the door of the restaurant in the rain with my two small children. How you stared us down and when I looked at you as we were almost inside, you threw your arms up in a confrontational manner. How I admittedly punked you out by throwing mine right back up, as to say keep hiding inside you car, low life.
How you didn't have the 'C.O.Jones' to get out and walk in at the same time as us. How we exited the restaurant and found that you spit chewing tobacco all on the back end of my wagon, just on the other side of the glass from two little car seats.
Woo hoo! Score one for you. You really showed me what a low life you really are...but you might want to go somewhere else for wings next time, because the manager wasn't impressed.