Also, the "I'm getting out at the last floor, but I'm going to stand in front of the doors at each and every stop along the way and not move until someone says excuse me" people need clue-by-fours upside the head.

And their siblings, the "My personal bubble is one square yard in all directions at all times and I don't really care that this elevator is only two square yards and it's lunchtime in a 15-story building with only 4 elevators, so I'm just going to stand here right in the doorway and refuse to step back and make room, so you people who've been standing there pressing the down button and waiting for an elevator for ten minutes can just step off and keep waiting. KEEP OUTTA MY BUBBLE." people.

Clue-by-fours, studded with rusty nails. It's the only solution.

t /bloodthirsty

ah memories of the Real World London.

BWAH! Put a nail through it!

Also, the "I'm getting out at the last floor, but I'm going to stand in front of the doors at each and every stop along the way and not move until someone says excuse me" people need clue-by-fours upside the head.

And their siblings, the "My personal bubble is one square yard in all directions at all times

Don't forget their bastard second cousins once removed: "Mr. I Have No Sense Of Other People's Personal Bubbles And I Think I Am All That Because I'm Wearing Armani And Too Much Cologne And A Fake Tan That Makes Me Look Like A Brazil Nut And So Therefore Even Though We Are The Only 2 People On The Elevator I Will Stand An Inch Away From You."

Stabby stabby.

Have a cigarette lighter? Ignite the cologne.

Dude, I would get a boyfriend just to give him that soap. I mean, except I won't.

chicken.

I cop to being weak. No shame there. It's well documented over the internets.

I cop to being weak. No shame there. It's well documented over the internets.

It's a wonder you even have a fan club....

In the Library of Congress Classification, "The Bible" is under the letters "BS". Hee.

Signed, superdork

Oh, yeah, Tep. Stab 'em, stab 'em a lot. Being a HEPA-filtered hospital, we have fewer of the aggressively scented than many other places, but the few who slip through stand out all the more. Happily, San Francisco doesn't have that many of the professionally tan. The zone-clueless*, though? Just asking for stabbage.

*Obviously, in a big multicultural city, allowances must be made for cultural differences, and if you're an elderly Chinese woman carrying a bag of groceries you are stabbing-exempt. White, obviously American, and self-important? Oh so stabbed.