an open letter to scrubs…

Dear Young Person sitting in the passenger seat of a moderately customized Honda Civic,

What’s the matter with you? I’m just walking down the street after 14 hours at work on a Saturday allowing the anthemic melodrama of Angels and Airwaves to give me the little bit of energy I need to make it home. Why do you feel the need to stick your head out your window and yell at me? What makes you think that I care about your misguided musings upon my sexual preference? Where are you getting your information from anyways? It’s not like I got all tarted up for the walk home. Plus, I’m wearing headphones, I can’t actually hear you. You just sound like yelling.

Let me cut to the chase here. I’m not that much older than you. I still know how to have fun, and I still appreciate some good ol’ fashioned juvenile mischief. But what you are doing is not fun or good ol’ fashioned juvenile mischief. It’s annoying. Stop it.

Please, in the future, keep your head in the car and your thoughts to yourself. Nobody actually likes being startled and nobody cares what you think.




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