Don't Blame Me For Your Stupidity

To the person who's foot I crushed the other day at Kroger-I'm not sorry. Had you not entered my personal space while I was trying to select a pack of hamburger, I would not have backed up and stomped your foot with my boot. I'm sure it hurt since you were wearing flip flops and I had on high heeled boots, but you lost your sincere apology from me when you gave me the stink eye and acted like it was my fault. Personal space is called personal for a reason. You don't need to be in it! Good old fashioned manners would have went miles for you in this situation. A simple excuse me would have gotten my attention and I would have gladly moved over for you. If you had recognized the fact that you shouldn't have been so damn close to me I could smell the stale cigarettes on your clothes and took your part of the blame, I would have told you I was sorry and meant it. But no. You squinted your eyes and scowled up your face like I did it on purpose. For a second I really thought you were going to go crackhead crazy on me and I was ready to pick up a 5lb roll of ground beef and knock the hell out of you with it. Instead you sat on the floor and rubbed your foot in an extremely exaggerated fashion and I gave you an extremely insincere apology. You almost got a "bless your heart" from me, which we all know means "screw you, bitch" but I like to save those for special occasions. My point is next time you feel the need to force your way to the front of a line, or try to push someone out of the way so you can grab a pack of steaks, remember how the little piggies that went to market almost didn't make it home because they were severed by someone's high heel.