You bastard.  You saw me.  You heard me.  You looked right at me as I started running down the hall (yes, in em-effin’ heels) calling out to you to hold the elevator.  You looked right at me, and then you got on the elevator and let the doors close.

I never liked you.  I always saw you as an arrogant little pr*ck.  In your pricky little car.  Or when you rode your bike to work but chose to wear that full unitard getup and walk into the building.  But I chose to ignore you.

But now?  I’m pissed.  And I’ll let you know – eventually – one way or the other.

In the meantime, I’d like to introduce you to my group of innernet friends.  They’re brutal.  And in my comments, they will assist me in wishing upon you every discomfort.  I’m warning you now — this could get pretty miserable.

Okay, friends.  It’s up to you.  Please enter your punishment/plague/affliction upon this insufferable gentleman in my comments section.  Feel free to be creative.

I’ll start.

To the jackass who didn’t hold the elevator, I wish upon you:

  • A raging case of jock itch with a side order of painful hemorrhoids.

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