Okra Graffiti Girl (Rio Rita)
Date: 2009-10-15, 11:10PM CDT
Oh you poor thing.
They just don't understand like I do. They don't know what you've been through.
Because they're Unforgiving Assholes, they didn't take the time to think that anyone so sadly lacking in self-control and basic decency --not to mention hygiene and concern for the health of others-- was either raised by particularly ill-mannered wolves OR was reeling from the blows that come from realizing your mother, aware of your antics, had died of shame.
Don't listen to them sugarlump; I'm here for you in your time of need.
I was as scandalized as you were to find out that mean, vicious bartender had the NERVE to not want your ill-mannered paws in the ingredients for one of the most popular, often-requested drinks in town. Clearly he doesn't get you like I do.
He doesn't understand like I do, how you have deep, important, meaningful okra-affiliated needs that cannot justly be checked by mere trivialities like health codes, manners, or the basic fundamental tenet that stealing is wrong, even though it's the corner stone of all major world religions and codes of conduct.
Don't worry about them baby; if stealing from a beloved locally-owned independent establishment is wrong, darling...I don't want you to be right.
You had every right to expose each and every patron in the bar to your own particularly delightful bouquet of pathogens and microscopic filth. In fact, next time I go into a bar and ask for a drink, I'm going to specially request someone who has no discernible concern for hygiene go ahead and give a good healthy sneeze right into the glass. You can't spell microbrew without microbe. Kinda.
And finally, I want you to know you have my full support with your little public art installation in the ladies room. Sure every other person on the planet might see your tenth-grade yearbook handwriting and think "what a sad, whiny, entitled little ball of hair, teeth and ego" and then laugh and laugh imagining you scribbling furiously, high on impotent righteous indignation like you just found out you didn't make Homecoming Court even though you totally let Bobby Hannigan go to third after flag practice because his aunt knew the woman whose husband counted the final ballots.
Don't worry the rest of the world is laughing at you and the permanent icon to your own jaw-dropping stupidity, but not I. We're a team now. I understand your poignant, poignant pain and I want to help. You have a message Okra Girl, a message for the world, and soon, the e.coli of justice will be spread through this great big condiment tray we call America!
- Location: Rio Rita
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
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