Don’t call me dude!

by Sandra

Pet Peeve:

Tonight, Milla and her roommate Brian and I went for burgers and sweet potato fries and Belgian beers at the Father’s Office.  When we came out of the restaurant, there was a guy leaning against my car (which happened to be parked right in front of the establishment) smoking with his friends. I made an off-hand comment about how much I loved that my car was being used as the resting spot for someone else’s rear-end. The offender look over at me and said something like:

“oh, is this your car, dude?”

To which I replied:

“I’m not a dude, dude!”

And can I just say — I HATE IT when people call me DUDE! I’m not a dude — I lack the appropriate anatomy to be a dude, I’m not a dude!

There’s a guy at work who does it, too, and when I correct him all he says to rectify the situation is the call me “dudette.”

Jeez, I hate it, why do guys DO that?!

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