Dear Peanut-Eating Hipster at the Dupont Five Guys:
(a.k.a. this guy:
You don't know me. I don't know you. It's safe to say we will probably never meet. But I hated you a little bit tonight. I hated you so much, in fact, that I wish you would somehow find this blog post & know what a jerk you were being circa 7:22 p.m. this evening. What was your offense, you ask? Well, I'll tell you, sir: dropping your scraggly, dirty peanut shells all over the floor.
I know Five Guys isn't the classiest of establishments, but this is not Texas Roadhouse, bucko. That's why they provide you with those handy little cardboard dishes to put your shells in. In fact, I know you knew those cardboard dishes existed because the polite pal you were with was disposing of his shells into one. But you? You just carried on, cracking & dropping & cracking & dropping, never stopping to take a look around you to notice that you were the only one in the entire joint dirtying up the semi-clean tiles with your peanut residue.
Why am I so angry, you want to know? Well, I can't answer that. I tried to ignore you, tried to wait in peace for my grilled cheese, but your rudeness - and your inability to recognize your own rudeness - drove me up a wall. I suppose it didn't help that you were chattering up a storm about Ivy League law schools as you committed your peanut misdemeanor, babbling on like so many privileged academics about LSAT this & admissions that, subconsciously assuming someone lesser - without a law degree, obviously! - would clean up your mess.
OK, buddy, I'm done. You are a jerk, & I am a passive-aggressive nitpicker, & we can leave it at that. But next time, if nothing else, consider the potential health hazards of your actions. Think I'm kidding? OK, I am. But I bet this lady isn't laughing.
(a.k.a. Order #52, the Grilled Cheese Girl with the iPhone)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
If you want to know the truth, I've been slacking on blogging because I've been busy getting - gasp! - healthy. That's right, I started seeing a physical therapist here in D.C. who's given me a bunch of back exercises to do to help me manage my pain, & the time I spend doing them in the evening is the time I typically spend blogging. So you'll forgive me if I don't have the hang of multi-tasking or dividing my time well yet, but I'll try a little harder to balance it all. And now, an open letter to the douchebag I encountered at Five Guys this evening:
By Suburban Sweetheart at 11:20 PM