Friday, August 19, 2005

Bitch monster from Hell.

Today I met the lady they were thinking of when they coined that phrase. (You know. "They.") She was younger than I expected.

Spanky, the puppy I was watching/playing with/being beaten up by, lives in the Franklin Hills, which is sort of above Los Feliz. The road is narrow and very windy (er, winding, not breezy) and parking is permitted on one side. So I parked across from the house and went into the backyard with the pup.

About half an hour later I heard a woman's voice calling from the side of the house and went to meet her. She said, "Is that your car?" in the most accusatory voice I've ever heard. Since I couldn't see the road and was not the only person parked out there, I asked which car she meant. "THE ONE BLOCKING ME IN." Well, I hadn't blocked anyone in that I knew of, so I asked her to wait a second and I'd come check.

Before I could get my keys or secure the dog (who is a baby and she has to know that, living right across the street), she started screaming about how she'd had to climb through the shrubbery to get out of her house. At this point I started apologizing,even though I still didn't know if it was my car. I left my keys in my bag and the puppy in the yard and came up to the street, where I saw that my car had indeed blocked the stairs from her front door to the street. I started apologizing in earnest, because I honestly hadn't seen the stairs and I felt TERRIBLE about it.

At this point any normal person would have realized that I was taking responsibility, not making any excuses, sorry, and TOTALLY INCAPABLE OF TURNING BACK TIME, and just accepted my apology. NOT THIS HO-BAG. She was still yelling at me as she drove away. BITCH.

And the thing is, I still felt bad. I went so far as to write a note of apology, but I threw it away because I realized that there was at least one, and I believe two, alternate exits from her house. SHE WAS JUST BEING A CUNT. So fuck her.