|Hitler, on the finger phone with Ann Coulter.|
What a terrible week I'm having!
Last night, on my way home from work, I went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription, and the lady at the counter said I would have to wait 15 minutes for the pharmacist to come back. And I said, "Hey, I don't think so, Hitler. This is America, and if I want my prescription now, I'm going to get it."
She said, "Hey, you don't have to be such a Hitler. I said the pharmacist would be back soon."
But I'm super busy and important, and simply did not have time to wait 15 minutes. So, I walked out. And on my way out the door, this little kid got in my way. So I yelled at him, "Get out of the way, you stupid Hitler!" And the kid started to cry, and his mom called me a Hitler for yelling at him.
So, I got home, and my cat was waiting for me in the doorway, meowing to be fed. "Okay, Hitler. I get it. You're hungry. Can't you even wait two minutes for me to put my stuff down?" But she continued meowing at me in the most oppressive way possible, completely aware of how Hitler-ish she was being. So I finally broke down and fed her just to shut her up. Stupid cat Hitler.
Then, things went from bad to worse.
So, my downstairs neighbor knocked on my door. She's this little old lady who hardly speaks a word of English. Lo and behold, she was having a heart attack, and in a very Hitler-like way, insisted that I call 911 for her.
"What?" I said. "But this is my personal phone. Why can't we use your phone to call 911, Hitler? I don't want to waste my minutes on that."
But my neighbor didn't have a chance to respond because she turned blue and passed out right on my rug. If she had been awake, I'm sure she would have called me a complete and utter Hitler. So, I went downstairs to her apartment and jimmied the lock and used her phone to call 911.
"911. Hitler speaking. How may I help you?" the voice on the other end said.
"My neighbor is having a heart attack or something," I replied.
"Well, what do you want us to do about it, Hitler?" the voice said.
"I dunno. I thought maybe you could come by and save her life or something," I said.
"You can't tell me what to do, Hitler!" And then the 911 operator hung up.
When I went back upstairs, my neighbor was still oppressing my rug with her unconsciousness, so I pulled her out into the hallway to wait for the EMTs to arrive.
And because my day had been so difficult, I decided to just order a pizza for dinner because if there is anything I hate doing, it's dishes. When my arms are elbow deep in suds, all I can think is how oppressing it is to have to do dishes. Like my dishes are Hitler or something.
Ring ring! went the phone at the pizza place.
"Hitler!" said the pizza man.
"And a Hitler to you too," I said. "I would like to order a pizza with extra cheese."
"Do you want a side of cheesy bread?" he asked.
"Stop trying to sell me things I don't want, Hitler!" I retorted.
"Fine, Hitler," he said. Twenty minutes later I had a delicious pizza, even though the delivery man was rude. I told him to stop oppressing me with his tip expectations like Hitler would if Hitler had been a delivery man and not a dictator. He glared at me, and all I could think was that he looked like Hitler right then, his hairy upper lip trembling. "HITLER!" he shouted and ran away, careful to step over my neighbor who was still hanging out in the hallway, Hitlering up the place.
Finally, with a slice of pizza in my hand, I was able to sit down and relax from my long, Hitlerous day and take in some World War II documentaries. That Mussolini guy was such a dick!