Did you ever want to punch an elderly woman at a restaurant? I have. This weekend Jenny and I went to a local greasy spoon to eat some hot sauce with a side of food. It was parent’s weekend in Tallahassee which meant a ton of out of town crank pants parents, trying to live vicariously through their children’s lives, dress in Garnet and Gold and take their adult children to Target to buy them a bunch of crap that they will return immediately on Monday morning so they can buy beer next weekend because nothing says I Love You like imitation Fiesta Wear and low thread count sheets. I’m just talking from experience. So, it was a little warm outside and the restaurant was packed. We chose to sit outside. The sun in Florida is like a blowtorch, so naturally we wanted an umbrella at our table. There was an extra umbrella and stand by another table which, I might add, had a fully open large umbrella canvassing their table. The umbrella I spotted wasn't even open, so I decided it was going to be our umbrella. I went over and politely (for real) asked if I could take the unused umbrella. Well, to my surprise the blue haired Betty sitting at the table says, “Well, WE could use it”, in a sassy pants voice.
This is where my mind goes: I have 2 toddlers and I try to teach them about sharing every fucking day. Over and over and over. “If I have 2 fucking toy cars and you have no toy cars, the polite thing to do is for me to give one fucking toy car to you and if I don't, you can shove a toy car (or umbrella) up my ass. It’s called sharing, you fucking geriatric cunt face. I hope you choke on your fucking frittata and die”.
I didn't say that, because I have principles. I simply say, “Well, you’re not using it”, which apparently is just as rude as what I wanted to say because the bitch was pissed.
This got me thinking about manners and society and crap like that. Last week I took the kids to the local mall because they have in indoor toddler containment unit next to a Starbucks. Heaven!!
This is the indoor playground and the triple threat I had with me that day.
Anyway, I have one kid in a stroller and two other kids roaming free range as I try to get from a very busy parking lot to the mall entrance. So, this little blonde twenty something scurries in front of me just as I get to the door and promptly opens and closes the door in my face. Hello, Douche Bag! Could you prop open the door for someone who obviously could use a hand? Fucking bitch. If I had I free hand, I would grab your cheap ass hair extensions and slam that pretty little face in the door, repeatedly. I wanted to put a pox on her that she’ll be pregnant with triplets by the end of the year and they will be evil soul sucking demons. But I didn't because the toddlers copy everything I do. Instead I bite my lip and watch 10 fucking people stare at me and not open the door. What - The - Fuck?! Seriously!
When I was 5 months pregnant, I got laid off from my job with the State of Florida. It was a perfect storm that day. I got laid off and was told to pack my belongings from my desk. First of all, what a fucking douche move to do to someone who is pregnant and then telling them to stop crying because I’m just embarrassing myself. I’m fucking hormonal you fucking cunt. Secondly, not one person in that fucking office helped me find a box or bag or anything helpful to get me out of there. I get everything packed up and start to walk out of the office… on the 9th floor… of a 16 floor building… and the mother fucking fire alarm goes off. The elevators are of course shut down and the stairs are the only option. There I am, with 3 large boxes, two bags and a purse, in heals and very pregnant, crying, trying to walk down 9 flights of stairs with 1300 other people. Not one fucking person offered to assist me. NOT ONE. I was obviously pregnant AND upset and not one fucking dick machine offered to help. I wished at that moment that I could go into labor and my water would break so that I could soak some Jimmy Choo’s and cause a avalanche of people slipping on amniotic fluid and bloody show. It would have been beautiful. It would have been justice. Looking back, I should have kept and bottled some of the amniotic fluid. I'd keep it in a spray bottle and discipline rude inconsiderate people; like, when a cat jumps on a counter top.