Let me begin by reminding those who know, and informing those that don't, that I'm a very private person. I have my personal space, and I enforce it. It's an invisible three-foot bubble around my feet that stretches over my head. I couldn't be a happier person if that bubble actually physically existed. I don't like it when people I don't know, don't know well, or don't like, invade my bubble. It's mine, hands off. You can tell if I like you if I let you within three feet of me without cringing. Hence, you can also deduce that I don't like people touching me (see above for descriptions of people that I don't want touching me, unless I tripped and knocked all my teeth out and you're helping me up).

Today, at work, someone invaded my bubble in the worst way possible. They slapped my ass.

Michael is the only one who is allowed to slap my ass. I think one time when I was drunk, Court slapped my ass, but that's a WHOLE 'nother story, and well, if the occasion calls, she is allowed to do that too. Other than that my ass is off limits to the world. My badonkadonk is belonging to me. Period. The last time someone other than the two people mentioned slapped my ass, they got knocked flat (it was high school…anger management problems, you see). So let's flash forward past the high school knockout, Michael’s ass slapping, and court's alleged ass slapping, to today, at about 6PM.

I'm windexing the glass cases around my register, minding my own business, trying to remove face prints, nose prints, finger prints, and prints of things I don't want to know of what, when suddenly I feel a good hard *WHOMP* on my ass. Dead on, bull's eye, you get the stuffed pink donkey. My brain starts whirring trying to figure out who on god's green earth would be stupid enough to smack my butt, when I hear "I just wanted to let YOU know that YOU are doing a GREAT JOB". *???????*

I turn, and there is this 6 ft douchebag in an orange Adidas t shirt grinning like...well, a douchebag. I was so taken back I didn't say anything for a minute, and then finally said "Oh no, you didn't just do that. No you didn't."

He started backing away from me saying "Oh man I'm sorry I thought it'd be funny..."

"Well it wasn't, was it? YOU DIDN"T just slap my ass. WTF."

I started walking towards him pointing at the door, I'm sure I was a lovely shade of purple by then, and told him to get the fuck out.

"I'm sorry man! Let me buy you something I’m sorry!"

I again repeated to get the fuck out and he backed away with his hands up

"Please don't hit me I'm sorry!!!"

"YOU SHOULD BE GETTING OUT"

and as he's leaving he said "I didn't think it'd make you MAD!!"

"WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT FUCKING TWICE GENIOUS YOU"RE LUCKY I DON"T HAVE YOUR ASS ARRESTED YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG. GET THE FUCK OUT."

Thank you, Adidas asswipe, for ruining my so far fantastic day. Thank you very much you cocksucker.

I still am at a total loss as to WHY this dumbfuck thought it'd be PERFECTLY KOSHER to whap a girl he doesn't even know on the butt. How, in ANY reality, would that be considered appropriate? This is NOT a club, I am NOT some fucking slutbag who'd giggle and think you're cute, or funny, or cool. I don't get paid to stand around and have my bubble invaded, NOR my ass slapped. I don't work at hooters, I don't work at Deja Vu, I'm not your friend, your buddy or your goddamned plaything. I'm not your eye candy, and I'm not there for your fucking amusement, dickhead.

And I'm not paid NEARLY enough to be ANY OF THAT FOR YOU. FUCK YOU.

Thank you for letting me get this off my chest. Fortunately for the world the food, nicotine, and beer are kicking in, and I'm a tad more mellow than when I got home.

And yes, "Douchebag" is my word for today.

Thank you, and peace out.

...fucking douchebag....