Hey you, yeah you with the shopping cart!

It's me, the person you ran into, twice, at Superstore. In the baking aisle. I'm the one to whom you said "Oops, didn't see you." I'm wearing navy blue, am built like a refridgerator, and am swinging a big green basket at the time. How the hell could you miss me? The second time you rammed me, you didn't even pretend to be sorry. Of course, it's all relative, since you hit that little old guy hard enough to knock him into the sugar display.

I got stuck behind you in the checkout line. Is there a medical condition that prohibits you from understanding what 12 items and under means? I saw you loading your big, shiny SUV in the parking lot. Scary, since you can't see a large woman six inches in front of your face. I also saw you smack your door into the door of the little pickup truck parked beside you. You left a nice dent, but no note, so I did it for you. License plate, description of you, your SUV, time, date, my name, and the name of another witness.

Have fun with ICBC. Jerk.