It seems our paths cross yet again. It's becoming impossible to go anywhere in this neighborhood without seeing you put the entire citizenry of San Francisco at grave risk in your black Porsche Boxster, performing acrobatics which can only be described as anarchy behind the wheel.
I don't know who bought it for you but I'm sure that someone did because you can't possibly be smart enough to have earned that much money yourself, especially considering what you must be paying some lucky salon to keep your voluntary blond tresses free of dark roots.
I was particularly impressed by the maneuver you treated us to at around 5:00 p.m. yesterday when you executed a double U-turn at the intersection of Divisadero and Chestnut Streets, cutting off vehicles in four directions and then deciding for reasons unknown to back up all the way to Lombard Street in rush hour traffic heading for the Golden Gate Bridge.
It turned out that you weren't trying to merge onto Lombard after all, but to get a running start back to Chestnut, where you slammed your car to the curb, beating out another woman who was in the process of parallel parking in that space.
At this point, you had my full attention. I'm sure you didn't notice me because your sunglasses have mirrors on the insides, but I was the brunette in jeans and white t-shirt leaning against a lamppost across the street staring intently at your vehicle. I really wanted to see what you looked like because you are, in your way, quite remarkable.
After flipping off the rightful owner of the parking space, you spent quite a lot of quality time with your rear view mirror, tweezing your eyebrows and applying more spackle and base coat before venturing forth.
When you had done as much damage control as possible, you slid out, ignoring the parking meter, and sashayed into a bar. A pick-up bar, actually, but then I'm sure you know that.
The prospect of you driving home later on busy roads, smashed, really made my day.
And since we're such good friends and all, I want you to remember that no matter how cool your car is, you're still ugly and I hope you get towed.
With the snidest of wishes,
Heart in San Francisco