So there I am driving through Rite Aid at 39th and Division, a little speedy I might add, and there you were walking out from behind a truck. On this rainy night neither of us knew that my car would dip into a pothole spewing a puddle of water almost picture perfectly onto the front of you. What did I do? Well I did the one thing that was difficult not to do, laugh hysterically. What did I want to do? In retrospect I would've stopped and gave you a beer since your nonchalant display of humility was worth way more. I don't know what else besides the beer I would've done since I didn't have anything to dry you off with. The look on your face was of partial blame since it was raining and the timing was just all wrong, but seriously I should've given you a beer for such a graceful reception of street water to the chest.

If you really do not want to pick up dog shit then do not take your dog in public or better yet do not get a dog. I am sick and tired of stepping in your dogs mess while I am walking my dogs. This is my warning to you. Next time I see you walk away after your dog has taken a dump I am going to walk up and knock you out with out warning. Then I am going to place your face right in your dogs shit. This way there will be no confusion as to why you were hit when you wake up.

I have seen your blue meth-abago parked around Sunnyside/Laurelhurst for years now. Never really cared until last week, as it slowly rolled down 43rd, weaving back and forth across the road. As it neared, I saw a woman driving, screaming and terrified as you sat shotgun, jabbing her in the face. To the woman- sorry I didnt call the cops, I was afraid it would make things worse for you. To the man, watch your back. I am going to catch you slipping and knock you out and sever both your achillies tendons. Get the fuck out of my neighborhood.

I met a wonderful boy. I actually liked him. I don't go on dates with people I don't know, and I did with him because we connected. We were having an amazing time together, and you walked up with your wife, blathering on about how you're such big fans, how its you "genre" of music, how its your anniversary and wanted a picture. You wouldn't leave. I had no idea he was a big deal, which is great for him, but you made me feel so secondary, like a dirt pile you have to avoid before someone sweeps it into the dustpan. Before that moment, I felt just a excited and a little special. I really hope you enjoyed your anniversary. Hopefully you didn't use it to ruin anyone else's time with each other.

I am a dog owner. I love my dog. My dog is awesome as hell and possibly a genius. But you know what? I keep that little shit on a leash, because he is a DOG.
No I don't think it's so hilarious when your footloose, fancy-free retard mutt comes charging around the corner at us, with you nowhere in sight.
No, I am not comforted by you calling out “He’s friendly!” before turning back to share more insipid banter with your equally vapid cunt of a soy-latte-toting girlfriend, while I’m struggling to keep our animals separated, calm, and safe, you TWAT.
No, I am not entertained by taking time out of my day to chase down your wandering cur, and drag it around the neighborhood looking for your oblivious ass.
And I feel really bad for your idiot dogs who run across the goddamn street when they see my (awesome) dog and don't listen to your feeble attempts to call them back. There are these things called CARS that drive down streets that don’t care how friendly little Bailey or Chloe (or whatever stupid baby-replacement name you gave your poor untrained, unleashed accessory dog) is.
I've already been to the ER for one dog bite this year. If your dog starts shit with my dog, and you are blocks away grinning like a horsefly on a manure heap, I will kick your dog in the fucking face, grab it by the hind legs and hurl it at you like a writhing sandbag of pain, you pus-brained pile of dumbassery. Fuck. You.

Me: driving home after work. You: tried to change lanes with out signaling. Me: didn't let you. We: got next to eachother at the light. You: said "what the fuck is your problem". Me: flipped you off. You: Gunned it, cut in front of me. Hopped out of your car & came over to open my car door. Me: Reached my kitchen knife. You: went in your trunk to grab a baseball bat. Me: put car in gear. You: threatened with bat, kicked front of car. Me: said "what the fuck is your problem". You: told me I was "a poor piece a shit. I would never earn $50.000 much less own a $50,000 automobile." Me: grabbed insurance card. You: continued to berate me. Me; rammed your $50,000 car. You: made noises like a dying chicken. Me; offered you my insurance information. You: jumped in car & drove off sideways. Me: caught up to you moments later in traffic & thanked you. It made my day.

You`re a fine piece of molded clay. Everything you thought you had uncovered is a mere illusion. Go play where the inexperienced children beget dreams to be destroyed by my own will. I will only eat you alive. You`re miles out of your depth.

Dear drunken fucktard that stole the Pearl Jam poster: Congratulations, asshole. You managed to cause $75 worth of damage to a struggling non-profit historic movie theater. Perhaps since you are unable to read, you didn't notice the same exact poster was available for $20 in the lobby. Oh, and if you've ever wondered if you are in fact an asshole yourself, I have devised a quick test. If you attended a Pearl Jam documentary in 2011, you are.

Disclaimer:

Here are some things we should discuss before moving forward:

I will often get angry when being forced to hold your hand and walk you through an argument, at which point I may stop discussing and hurl outright insults at you. If at any point I use a paradigm, psychoanalytic, or phenomenological approach to unravel and discover parts of your personality to expose something I find interesting and you find it unsettling- stop contributing; I will not continue an experiment without you. If you find that I am somehow getting in your head and you feel freaked out then stop contributing, I will also stop. If at any point you take me too serious and feel depressed or want to hurt yourself, please for God’s sake just stop. You are probably a decent person that is just in over their head and wanting to save face, I get it but I will not be responsible for your sadomasochism or any result thereof. So be warned, I find stupidity appalling and will seek to turn it in upon itself whenever the opportunity presents itself.