On The Lookout for New York Licence Plate DVS 3697

OK, so I'm not really on the lookout for this car but just in case
the owner should Google his own license plate, he'll land on my blog and read about what an asshole he is.  Seriously?  Why sugarcoat the son of a bitch?

I love New York City especially during the holidays; the beautiful lights, the festive Christmas music, decadent window displays, even the Christmas carolers, yes the Christmas carolers.  Maybe not carolers like these people here but carolers begging for a dollar. A dollar well spent.  But I want to live  a life like these people-look at them-getting most of the holiday cheer as they can. I'd like to experience the holidays like this dazzling quartet. But I can't.  I can't because of people like asshole NY license Plate DVS 3697.

II can deal with the occasional cut off by an impatient driver and by occasional I mean at least one an hour.   But cut me off a bit too close and:

I will key the exterior of your newly purchased Porche.

I will launch my morning hot coffee at your car window (hopefully you had it rolled down).

I will scream racial epithets at you.

That's right.   I JUST DON'T CARE.

My therapist says its the A.D.D, and behavior like that I should do my best to suppress.

So, NY license Plate DVS 3697, you're an asshole.

I had just started crossing Columbus Avenue with my three year old in her stroller, when all of a sudden this Navy BMW came a little to close to my stroller wheels.  Cut me off with not a care in the world.  Now, if my daughter was not with me, I would have run after the car when it stopped at a red light and kicked it a couple of times.  Or if it was a really long light, I'd buy a slice of hot cheesy pizza and throw it cheese down on his windshield. 

The psycho behind the wheel look like Robert Chambers, the newly-released-killer-from-prison. So as my little one slept in the stroller, I was lucky enough to have psycho-driver pull up along the sidewalk and park his car.  Although I was tempted to ask him if there were body parts in his trunk, I knocked on his window instead.  I would've knocked on the driver's side window till my knuckles bled. 

Needless to say, I verbally freaked out on the guy, in a quiet, more holiday-spirited Hannibal sort of way.

On a more festival note, here is a festive video shared by a very talented actor friend of mine, Krissy Shields.