On one's dim sense of self-preservation

My mouth almost got me into trouble today.

Again.

Around noon, I headed over to 7-Eleven for some supplies. I needed a Coke, bag of chips, and some ice cream so I could watch the Germany - Turkey match this afternoon (I'm on antibiotics, so no alcohol for CJ!).

As soon as I reached the parking lot, a brand new, gleaming Hummer pulled in. It had black tinted windows, a satiny pearl paint job, lowrider suspension, spinner rims, and chrome everything. I slowed my pace down, so I could get a good look at who came out of the driver's seat.

A tall, skinny guy, probably late twenties/early thirties, got out. He was wearing a grubby "wife-beater" shirt, a dirty orange baseball cap (backwards, of course), and filthy cut-off jean shorts.

I couldn't contain my laughter - I laughed so hard, people inside the store stopped what they were doing to see what was going on.

"What the fuck is your problem?", the guy asked, "What's so fuckin' funny?"

Still laughing, I replied, "You have the money to buy that pink monstrosity and the gas to fuel it, but you can't afford a decent wardrobe?!"

The only reply I got was a shocked "Fuck you!". No macho posturing, no thumping of chest, no threats, only mild profanity.

I was a tad disappointed.

I caught up with the guy in the checkout line. He shot me a look and quickly turned away without saying anything.

So, I did what I figure I ought to do - I tapped him on the shoulder.

And apologized.

"I'm sorry mate, I was just being an asshole," I said, "Can I buy your Slurpee for you?"

"Uhhhh... yeah!" he said, "That's cool!"

So I did.

Sometimes, I can be a real jerk.