Don't cross me.

You'd never know it, but I have...shall we say, a dark side. And it doesn't just restrict itself to a monthly appearance. Give me any excuse to throw down and this Holly Hobby morphs into Linda Blair in a nanosecond.

I cite the following example:

It was a dark and stormy night. OK, replace "stormy" with the coldest, meanest, more frigid than a witch's tit kind of night. Nights that make us wonder why the hell we voluntarily live in the Arctic. I was driving around...and around, and AROUND, trying to find a parking spot that was within a mile of my place. Finally, 5 hours later, with fumes left in my gas tank, a spot miraculously opens. I praise Allah, Jesus, the Saints and the Red Sox, then I dutifully pull forward like I learned in Driver's Ed and began to back into the spot.

Some motherfucker in a Nissan Altima across the street bangs a U-ie and pulls into the spot behind me. I'm in shock. Did this really just happen? But there's the cocksucker in my rear view mirror, turning off his lights and happily collecting his things like he just pulled into the church parking lot for midnight mass.

I back up, slowly, my dark side contemplating various ways of disembowelment and torture. I make sure my car is 2 inches from his driver side window and stare at him, forcing him to turn and look at me. I roll down my window.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing."

He begins to argue. "I saw the spot first, I was across the street," and other bullshit that I can't hear because there's a roar in my ears. My dark side is doing pushups.

"This spot was mine. You stole it from me. And I'm not moving." He looks at me, dumbfounded. Then he tries to open the door. But he can't, because a Toyota RAV4 and The Incredible Hulk are blocking it. So he sits there. Five minutes pass.

Finally, like a wounded animal, he crawls over the stick shift and stumbles out the passenger side door.

"You know what?" he yelps from the sidewalk, "You're a real bitch."

"AND YOU'RE A PUSSY!" Linda Blair screeches back, lights and fire shooting out of my eyes and ears. Green vomit starts to trickle from my mouth. Pussy takes one look at me and runs.

To make sure he doesn't forget his new name, I write it on his windshield in MAC Chile matte lipstick.