TOWANDA!

I am one dumb-luck happenstance away from a full-fledged nervous breakdown -- no kidding this time.

My back is pretty sturdy by now -- random bouts of unemployment, mounting debt, hooligan children, crazy family members (they're all nuts including me) -- I can carry a shit-ton of crap in my nifty ain't-life-swell backpack, but I'm no frickin' body builder. And it's not even big things that are pushing me over -- random bouts of unemployment, mounting debt, hooligan children ... it's the shit-storm of stupid people raining down on me like poops from Heaven.

The latest was a Florida couple--a mullet-sporting, NASCAR-loving twat and her top-heavy husband -- in a movie theater parking garage. I was so close to knocking their teeth down their throats -- that's assuming they had teeth -- I could taste blood.

For starters they came fishtailing into the garage and nearly plowed into a row of parked cars. They raced around the place like a couple of Earnhardt wannabes and Mr. Douchebag screeched his sporty Hyundai to a stop when he noticed a friendly fellow signal my mom that he was leaving. There we were waiting and waiting and waiting -- my mom, Lily and me -- to park the car and go to a movie. My mom was making her approach when the Florida-Hyundai bastard beeped his horn and stole our spot, and his bitch wife flipped US off.

I  rolled down my window and berated them with a long list of obscenities.

Cursing usually soothes my soul, but it didn't work this time. I wanted to jump out and kick both their asses -- and I'm not a brawler. They're lucky Lily was with me and Jerod wasn't -- he'd have wrecked their car Towanda style.

I sat through the whole movie praying that Lily wouldn't finish her blue slushy, and she didn't. I was all set to dump the syrupy blueberry concoction on their car as we were leaving the garage, but Mom wouldn't let me -- "cameras," she said.

It's bound to happen sooner than later -- I won't have the will to control myself when one of these idiots thinks I'm too little to fight back and therefore easy pickings. I have zero use for rude people and bullies. If every parent of a kid that gets picked on kicked a bully's ass today; there'd be no bullies to worry about tomorrow -- give the little bastards a taste of their own medicine. Or maybe not -- perhaps that's a little too vigilante.

That Florida Hyundai would have been toast 15 years ago. I'd have colored the windows in with hooker-red lipstick and let the air out of the tires. These days I'm all about karma and keeping my aura unsoiled -- it's not helping and it's BORING.

Let this be a warning to all you rudies out there: I'm this far (one-thousandth of a centimeter) from a vigilante justice spree. The next time one of you punks tries to screw me over ...