To the guy who stopped me for directions Thursday on Lower Water Street:
I was walking back from a client meeting — in my best suit, high heels, briefcase — and you shouted at me from your car and asked how to get to “Joe Howe”.
You were too busy looking like a total f***ing jerkoff cursing *ME* out and asking if I was retarded to find our there is both a street and building called Joe Howe. I only wish I had been more harsh in my retort, but alas I was so surprised.
But I saw you grab your crotch as I walked away. Come near me again, asshole, and I’ll cut it off.
—Kathryn C.
This article appears in Apr 2-8, 2009.
I despise people that have the gaul to pester other people when they’re perfectly capable of doing things themselves. Should’ve whipped a map at his face and told him to quit being a lazy fuckwad.
you should have yelled “practice”
You slam your briefcase against the hood of his car, take off your shoes and run like hell, cackling all the way. It’ll be worth the price of a briefcase.
That’s why they invented GPS, so directionally challenged mutants wouldn’t end up on Hollis looking for Joe Howe.