2 + 2 = 5

I'm not brilliant... In case of course, anyone reading these words would consider anything else. I come in contact with individuals however, that tend to convince me I may be a genius. So I'm sitting in my car, windows up, on my cell phone. Mind you, the reliance on this object in my hand is well beyond what it should be. I'm looking forward to the day when I can connect with friends, family, and loved ones through a microchip in my brain and a microphone implanted into one of my molars. I digress. As I'm talking to a customer, not only do I see a figure in my periphery standing roughly 2 feet from my car, staring at me, but then I also have the pleasure of hearing, "KNOCK-KNOCK, Excuse me, SIR... HAAY, Sir!!!" I finish the phone call, open my door and almost hit the figure standing on the other side: a young, pants-hangin' halfway off his ass, wife-beater tee wearin', LA Dodger hat off to one side, short, little dumb-ass. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says. "Oh, you didn't," I say. "So what could you possible need?" Says me. "Um, *pause* could you tell me where the Shoe Warehouse is?" Okay, now stop. This is true. I stood, silent, and looked into his brainless little eyes. "You were pounding on my window to ask me that?" He, of course, said yes. I proceeded to make the points that should be made, ie: he's fucking rude, you don't EVER pound on someone's window, etc. He turns around, slowly moves towards his car and says, "Crazy Ass Motherfucker..."

I laughed so hard I peed; that's right, *just a little*

I walked into the store to purchase a refreshing beverage only to hear him yell one more, "FAG!!!" in my direction.