Heather Toshiko

Apparently, whoever our greater power is, She decided that I was getting a little too cocky. Perhaps I like myself a bit too much. Perhaps I’m a little too secure. Rather than the usual “burning bush” message, tonight she sent her messengers in the form of douchebags, to tune me up just a bit

So, when I am at work, sometimes I need to get places very fast. Tonight, as I was sitting in a parking lot, a colleague called and advised me that I needed to be somewhere. Very fast. I started my car, and windows still open, I zoomed through the lot. As I neared the exit, a tall, skinny man, and his wife and child were about to cross the lot. As I zoomed by, he yelled “slow down!” Since my window was open, I politely yelled “suck it!” and continued on my way. Apparently, Fuckstick has anger issues, because he lost his shit and screamed “Fuck you, you fat bitch!” and angrily flipped my receding taillights the bird. Wow! Someone’s wife is gonna have bruises to explain on Monday morning. He totally lost his head in like 2 seconds. I contemplated stopping and suggesting an anger management course before his little boy starts killing squirrels, but I had somewhere to be.

Fast forward about an hour. I’m recapping my incident with Fuckstick to my colleague, CAPTAIN. As I finish with the punchline “Fuck you, you fat bitch!” he turns to me and says “but Heather, you were in your car, how did he know?”

Tomorrow, CAPTAIN will be washing, waxing and detailing my car, with his toothbrush.

After being called a fat bitch not once, but twice, I was finally on my way home at around 1am. It was about 71 degrees outside, and I was holding red at a stoplight with my windows open and the new Usher CD bumping. My only thoughts were on the nice cold bottle of cheap wine in my fridge. To my left, a silver Impala full of African-American teenage boys pulled up. Their windows were also open, and I heard the driver ask the passenger “is she hot?” as they all looked over at me. His response: “Nah, she old.”

I’m going to drink a bottle of wine now. Maybe two. Tomorrow, I start wearing a paper bag to work. No, no. Not over my face. The bag is to cover the Sig Sauer P228 9mm pistol that will be in my right hand. Good night.