So, yesterday, my GENIUS writing partner, Doug Prochilo, and I, had lunch at one of our favorite grub haunts, Casa Vega. Afterward, we both grabbed a hard-chocolate after-lunch mint out of the bowl on the hostess desk and wandered out into the bright sunlight.

Doug, who was driving, got into the car and started her up…but, alas, the MISERABLE CUNT who had parked next to us pretty much parked crosswise and like three inches away from my door — and, trust me, I am FAR too large and in charge to thread my fatass through the eye of THAT needle. So, while Doug was attempting to back out of our space to give me room to climb in, an older, white-haired, moneyed-looking, impeccably-Brooks Brothers-bedecked, attorney-type gentleman who had just gotten out of a sleek black Mercedes, stopped to commiserate with my situation. He shook his handsome, distinguished head and said:

“Gosh, don’t you hate when people do that? For the longest time, I have wanted to get some pre-printed cards made up that say, ‘Hey, why don’t you learn how to park, buddy?’, so I can leave one on their windshield. What do you think about that?”

To which I smiled sweetly and responded:

“Oh, TOTALLY. I was actually just considering hiking up my skirt, scrambling up onto the car, and taking a HUGE DUMP on the hood…you know, as a social statement. What do you think about THAT?”

This poor guy got the most horrified look on his face, and hurriedly turned to walk away, raising his hands in the air in disgust. I opened my arms like a yenta and yelled across the parking lot after him, “What…TOO MUCH?”

I AM A FUCKING DISGRACE.