A letter to the stereotype blonde in the SUV parked in the handicap spot

Dear Blonde:

You probably don't think anyone noticed you, but we did. You thought the crimson Escalade would hide you; that its oversized cab and gleaming rims and tinted windows would give you the right to do anything you please. And maybe it does. Maybe in your world, the dyed hair and the face like Heidi gets you free stuff from star-struck wannabes who put as much value on materials as you do.

But here's the problem: You actually look like Heidi Fleiss. That, and not everybody lives in your world. Not the lady who had to walk around your car to get to hers, or the mother and daughter who couldn't stop staring while you yakked on your cell phone the whole time while you were parked. My wife and I certainly don't; it's the reason why we drove around your car just so we could document it:



Now, I might be able to forgive your parking faux pas. After all, you never could bother to actually leave the car. Maybe your lip gloss reflected the sun in your eyes and you missed the lines.

But to park diagonally across two handicap spaces? Really?

Please take notice of the handicap parking sign in front of your car in this photo. Your meathead boyfriend didn't notice, but everyone in the Walgreens parking lot sure did.