Say It With Middle Fingers
Dear flower-delivery guy: Sorry I was trying to merge onto the highway early Sunday morning. I guess it warranted you practically running me off the empty freeway. I probably deserved the middle finger and smug-ass smile you sent my way as well. Just one thing: Maybe you forgot your company’s phone number was on the side of the minivan you were rollin’ in? The lady who answered my call at the shop didn’t seem that stoked about your behavior. In fact, she said she was going to fire your ass. Perhaps next time you want to be a tough guy and drive like an asshole, you should make sure you don’t have a direct line to your boss in 12-inch letters on your vehicle.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to “Hey, You!” c/o OC Weekly, 2975 Red Hill Ave., Ste. 150, Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or e-mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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