The D-bag at Wal-Mart

So I just encountered the biggest D-bag of all time today at Wal-Mart.

The guy: 'Mr. six foot five, good looking, red Burton hat and flip-flop wearing jerk,' pulled the ultimate d-bag move when he blatantly slithered in front of me in the ten items or less line, with his cart full of items, as the store was closing.

Arrrgh!

I just stood there with this look on my face:

Seriously, I was stunned.

The kicker though, is that I didn't say anything! Instead, I just stood there, balancing my bottle of bleach, 24-pack of toilet paper and other household cleaners, with that look painted onto my face.

And then a girl, who I assume was his girlfriend, walked up. She kind of chuckled and told Mr. D-bag that he couldn't go in that line.

"Don't worry about it," was his reply, as they both smirked. (Him out of arrogance and her out of what looked to be a combination of embarrassment and arrogance.)

She sipped on her medium McDonalds drink and they chatted. (I don't know what about, because I was too busy fuming....)

"You're going to cut me in line?" I was saying to him in my head. "Oh you crossed the line, I'm going to blog about you. Yeah, that's it. I'm going to blog about you and all my friends are going to know what a d-bag you are. So there!"

Then, I overheard him tell the girl to put her McDonalds cup on the floor.

"Let them pick it up," he said. "Or give it back to them and tell them you don't want it."

UGH!

"You know what, now you've really crossed the line," I yelled at him in my head. "If I wasn't too scared to tell you off in real life, I would totally call you out right here. But no, I'm a chicken. That's ok though, all my friends are going to read my blog, and they're going to be appalled by your actions and you'll be so embarrassed...Well, you would be anyway, if you knew that I was blogging about you...No, wait. You probably wouldn't be embarrassed because you're such an arrogant jerk that you likely think this stuff is funny. Well let me tell you something: You, sir, are a d-bag. A big, dumb, d-bag!"

I just stood there. Fuming in my head, with that stupid look painted on my face.

"Oh, and another thing, I'm going to remember your outfit and tell all my friends, and someone's going to know who you are based on my description, and they'll be like 'yeah, that guy's a d-bag!' and I'll say, 'I know!' and then we'll talk about you..."

(What?! I was mad...)

So then the d-bag and his lady cash out, and as I pass by them to go to my check-out, I give them both the meanest, dirtiest look (without actually making eye contact because I'm scared of confrontation) I tell myself that I am going to write the meanest blog rant ever about them.

"Take that d-bag and girlfriend. Take that!"

So here it is, my rant.

If you know this d-bag, message me so we can talk about him behind his back...