In which I respond to a friend who wrote to tell me I'm too angry by relating a true story I wasn't going to tell but remembered it's my blog so what the hell

There's a certain mini-mart at the corner of Wisconsin and Nebraska where I occasionally stop to buy club soda before work that's frequented by sallyquinns and pumpkinheads and tweetys, it being just down the street from NBC's Washington complex. This morning, a pumpkinhead and a sallyquinn were in line in front of me, commiserating about "Poor Scooter," and despite myself I snorted.

Pumpkinhead turreted his meganoggin and barked, Who the hell are you?