You're the woman who couldn't maneuver her fat, dimpled ass around my shopping cart at Ralphs. Instead of asking me to move it or simply pushing it to the side, you shoved it, bruising my legs. You then proceeded to explain to your son, “If people wouldn't leave their carts sitting in the middle of the aisle, then we wouldn't have this problem.” Obviously embarrassed, your son asked you to calm down. I told you what a wonderful example you're setting for your young son and how you should probably take his advice. As you waddled off, you screamed at me, “Learn how to drive!” Is that the best you can do? An unoriginal dig at my Asian heritage? I don't know what's worse, the fact that you use racial slurs in front of your son, or the fact that you've probably lost your cool in front of him so many times he already knows when to tell you to calm down. So the next time you're in Ralphs and you're wondering why all the employees are giving you dirty looks, it's probably because they heard the story about the obese racist with the bad dye job. Who knows, maybe I'll see your fat ass again in the Twinkie aisle. You probably won't recognize me though, you're ignorant enough to think all us Asians look the same.
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