My stick family stickers

I saw the dumbest, most loserly thing on the back of a car today. It was a stick family sticker of a woman - a perky little number with curly hair, her little stick arms loaded with little stick shopping bags. Next to her was a little stick cat. The owner of this cute little advertisement of singledom drove a compact new model car in modern black. I learned a lot about this person. My acute skills as a local stalker weren't even needed for this moron. She had laid it all out in front of me.

Here's her profile:

Female 

(or an interesting young man)

Single 

(or keeping her options open)

Has cat 

(no man-eating dog at premises)

Is young 

(the P Plates on the back of the car)

It was her car 

(the pretty 'Hello Kitty' seat covers says she didn't borrow the car from Daddy)

I know that doesn't definitively rule out a man living at home with his parents. True. But what this person put out there publicly, to me, smells of stupid. This girl must have missed the school chat about stranger dangers.

I don't know if the phenomenon of stick figure families have taken over your world, but it has here.

My car. Peek-a-boo Scarlett.

Mine aren't there to show off my family. Mine are there to serve as a warning to other drivers not to piss me off. 

Back off dickhead. I have 5 kids and a husband with a tennis racquet. You think I'm crazy and my driving's fucked? You may be half right on the crazy part, but this psycho bitch is gonna fuck you up if you mess with me. Think I care if I've moved in front of you? I've been stuck in this God-damn car for 40 minutes with two kids with shit in their nappies, one kicking the back of my seat, one who smells much more than teen spirit, two complaining of starvation, a baby who hasn't stopped crying since we left home and two kids having a slapfest while listening to the Wiggles at deafening levels. You want to take me on? Huh? And you see that 'We crossed the Nullabor' sticker? Well that's my fucking badge of crazy. That's right, I took four of these bastards over 7500kms across the country and back. Yeah. Now say you're sorry for honking your horn. And tell me I'm pretty. 

I like my stickers. 

No one in their right mind will be following me home.