Holy shoot! You take one week off for Christmas vacation, and a poop load of I, Anonymooses come flowing in. There's one about cookie thieves, one about pervs at Slappy Cakes, one about whining 17th century English lit majors, and one complaining about complainers who complain.
But here's my fave from last week, addressed to "Creeper Grandpa."
I was standing in line at my favorite coffee shop, that I visit daily, when the two groups of you spotted each other from opposite sides of the shop and decided to meet each other halfway—which was, coincidentally, precisely where I was standing—and proceeded to surround me on all sides and yammer loudly about how you were doing and what you were up to. I was trapped in an auricular windtunnel of shit that I didn't care about. I tried to edge myself forward in line to get away from you, but the creepy old man of your group thought this would be a good opportunity to get close enough to cop a feel.
Hey! Watch your paws, you filthy suburbanite grampy! Got something you need to get off your chest? The I, Anonymous Blog is always there as your personal ventilation system. So stop yer gropin', and drop off an I, Anonymous today!
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