Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Monday, August 28, 2017
I pulled up at the red light turning onto the MacDonald Bridge from Dartmouth to the minivan in front of me just sitting there waiting for the light to turn green. There is no right turn on red, that's true, but only between 6am and 9am and 4pm and 6 pm. It was 9:10 am. So, because we didn't have to just sit there, I honked my horn. The minivan didn't move, either because they didn't know it was after 9 am or because they couldn't see the sign from their position. In any case, I was annoyed enough, but then YOU had to show up and block the other lane. You, Mr. Mid-50s on a motorcycle being all high and mighty, commiserating with minivan and shaking your head at me, tapping on the side of your helmet like I was the one being a dumbass, while I continued to honk and firmly inform you that it was "AFTER 9!" while tapping my watch. OK, so maybe I was being a little aggro, but for fuck's sake, I was RIGHT and you were being a dick. You had a full view of the sign and yet you just assumed that I, a young woman, was the one in the wrong. Fuck you and your minivan friend for wasting two minutes of my time with your bullshit. I'm not vindictive enough to wish you physical harm, but I would find it pretty satisfying if a garbage truck backed over your bike while it was parked outside whatever shitty workplace you were going to. —Cranky Sedan
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