Asshats

I have some online acquaintances that reside in other countries – Canada, Australia, Finland, England, Scotland and France, for example. The Australian ladies have taught me some of the most excellent phrases and swear words.

Really.

For what happened to me last Saturday, no word but ‘asshat’ will do.

See, some ASSHAT broke out my passenger window to steal my GPS and middle sprog’s camera. This is what my window looked like after the well-meaning security/maintenance people attached visquene to my car with ginormous swatches of duct tape. You can just barely see a few shards of glass in the window track, but there was glass every-freaking-where.

We had driven up to Seattle to watch an Irish Dance competition, and we were in a gated parking lot at a large, big-name hotel. It was a bright and sunny day. There were tons of people all over the place. My car was about 50 feet from the hotel.

Then the ASSHAT struck.

I had to drive home from Seattle with the plastic flapping, the wind roaring, and my ears ringing. All because some ASSHAT with a hammer thought he or she could get a fast and easy $50.

The ASSHAT cost me $180 for the window replacement (it was below my $250 deductible), but the GPS and camera would cost just under $500 to replace. And my deductible is – you guessed it – $500. I can’t replace them now.

So, to Mr. or Ms. ASSHAT, I have a little message: I hope the money got you what you needed, and I hope you feel every tiny glass shard poking at you for eternity. ‘Cause if I have my say and there’s an afterlife, all that glass will be in your underwear. Forever.

ASSHAT!

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