Then, I'm driving to the mail place. I leave my house, turn left on the street to the east of me and am literally driving fifteen miles an hour because, you know, I've just made a slow turn and haven't even had much of a chance to put my foot on the gas pedal. But, to my left, there's one of those disgusting Studio City entitled parents who have RUINED this neighborhood beyond belief and she shoots me this look and gives a slow down gesture. This happens a lot in this neighborhood and I'd just had it. I slammed on my brakes, rolled down my window and said, "WHAT?" She said, "Slow down, there are children in this neighborhood and the speed limit is twenty-five miles an hour." I got a little louder than usual and said, "No, incorrect, the speed limit in this neighborhood is thirty-five miles an hour and I was going fifteen so I don't understand your problem, lady. I've lived here a hell of a lot longer than you, I'm a parent, I love children, and your parenting is a lot scarier than my driving well under the speed limit." She just gave me an entitled look and I drove off before doing what I knew I was about to do - get out of my car and have a real conversation.
