Yes, 115-lb wifebeater-wearing white boy in the lifted pick-up truck, I did look at your obnoxiously drunk, raucously loud girl in the too-tight bubble-gum-pink tank top when she walked out of the convenience store. No, I am not intimidated by your turret-like stare as you circle the parking lot once on your way out. What the fuck are you going to do, get out of your truck? Mmmm hm. Didn't think so. You have a nice night now, y'hear?