Fuck Yeah DC!

imwithkanye:

Hello sir,

My name is Ben and at about 8pm tonight (1/17/12) you ran directly into me with your electric wheelchair in front of the Giant in Columbia Heights, DC.

Allow me to illustrate what exactly happened that was so be-fuddling and anger inducing that it would inspire me to create a “missed connection” post on Craigslist.

After a long day at work, I entered the aforementioned Giant in our wonderful nation’s capital. All I needed were paper towels. I purchased said paper towels and was on my merry way home only to be caught in a pedestrian traffic jam of sorts at the entrance of the grocery store. After avoiding disaster and taking a sigh of relief, my eyes were suddenly affixed upon an middle-aged gentleman about four to five feet away from me in an electric wheelchair hellbent on taking me out. That gentleman was you, sir. Not only did you run directly into me, but I consequently fell directly onto you, and then off your wheelchair, and then onto the ground.

Now, what for lack of better words “pisses me the f*ck off” is the fact that you threw up your hands like you were just attacked by a pack of rabid penguins. What “pisses me the f*ck off” even more is the fact that all the on-lookers immediately ran to your side to see if you were “okay.” Don’t mind me. It’s all gravy. Getting hit by people in electric wheelchairs is apparently a normally occurring thing in everyday life. Moreover, I get that you are handicapped for whatever reason and need an electric wheelchair to do whatever it is you do, but in my years of living I’ve gathered that by now electric wheelchairs have the ability to stop as well as go.

One more thing. I have a broken toe on my right foot. You managed to not only run over that, but my left foot as well, which now feels like it was just hit by an inconsiderate handicapped guy in an electric wheelchair in front of a Giant in Washington, DC (see what I did there?). Anyway, I am currently working as a day manager and head bartender at a bar/nightclub. This job requires me to constantly be quick on my feet and run up and down stairs daily to make sure things run smoothly. Now pardon my language sir, but how the f*ck am I going to explain to my bosses and fellow employees that I cannot perform up to expectations because I got “hit by a guy in an electric wheelchair.” These kinds of things not only sound made-up, but make me look like a straight up punk b*tch, and I sir, am not a punk b*tch.

I WILL NOT ACCEPT YOUR GUFF AND DOUCHE-BAGGERY, AND CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL.

Judging by the shape of your legs (literally and figuratively), we cannot engage in a cage fight, and sadly duels to the death are no longer considered “legal.” The only fair compromise is that I buy an electric wheelchair myself and we joust. If you accept these terms, I demand we meet in front of the same Giant at the date of your choosing, preferably at sunrise so I can still make it to work after I f*ck your shit up.

I do not care if I miss rent next month, or my cell phone gets cut off. I will use all the money I make to make this happen in order to make things right in this already sad world. The gauntlet has been thrown.

Consider your couch f*cked,
Ben

P.S. - I hate you.