These Are Not The Kind I’m Talking About
The random lady at the grocery store:
Did you actually name your son Rowdy?
Me: Yep, (smile) I sure did.
Real response: Yes, and I will actually kick you in your twat. Btw, write down your number for me, because if I ever decide to carry another child for nine months and then give birth to them, I wanna give you a call and see if you approve of the name I choose, Miss Random Lady at the Grocery Store.
The (first time) pregnant lady at the pool laying out:
Aww…your kids are so cute!
Me: Oh thank you. You are so cute pregnant!
Real response: Oh lovey. Oh sweet precious girl. First of all, thank you, but more importantly, you need to stop looking at these kids. Just focus on your tan. This is the last time you will be able to do this for YEARS! No kids now. Just sun. Shhh…lay down. Hush now….that’s it. Shh….sun. Good girl.
The employee at Sonic happy hour:
Would you like any mozzarella sticks to go with your Diet Coke today?
Me: No thanks, not today.
Real response: Yes I would, actually. I’d like them in my mouth hole. I’d also like a chocolate shake, a corndog, and any thing else in that little hut of yours that is fried and can give me a heart attack…but see, I have to get this ass into a swimsuit girl. So unless I ask for any of it by name, then shut your face and bring me my goddam Diet Coke!
Judgy person I barely know who overheard my story about the casino:
I just don’t understand throwing money away like that. I couldn’t do it.
Me: Well, I have problems. (chuckle chuckle)
Real response: Well it’s a good thing you don’t go to casinos bitch, because with my luck I would probably get stuck at a machine right next to you and you would want to “chat.” Walk away fun-hater. Walk away. That’s right…loser.
Everyone of the people at Target staring as my toddler throws a gigantic ridiculous fit because he doesn’t want to sit down in the cart:
Stares and glares and a few loud gasps.
Me: Oh…he just needs a nap. (forced smile)
Real response: Fuck you all! Quit looking at me! What is wrong with you people, haven’t you ever seen a baby do a back handspring in a shopping cart before? Why don’t you get out score cards and rate his performance you critical pieces of horse shit!
The nurse at the doctor’s office:
Okay, why don’t you hop up there on the scale…
Me: Okay sure, should I set down my purse?
Real response: Why don’t you? I’ll tell you what…you hop on up there, and I’ll do it after you. Only you can “hop up” and on my turn, I’ll scowl and hunch over in a pissy-like fashion and we’ll see if hopping proves to make it a more enjoyable experience. Oh, and I’ll write your results down on a piece of paper for my records. Btw, I am not mad at you, I am mad at me.
The creepy guy at the stoplight who winks and won’t stop staring:
Me: Awkward smile, pretend to mess with my phone
Real response: Oh yeah, you like this? You want it, huh? You sure about that? I haven’t showered in two days and I got a car full of kids. You wanna be their daddy do ya? Well good, start by giving me money to feed them and then sleep down on the bunkbed with my husband. My bed’s been taken over by minions. Ya asshole.
It’s probably a good thing I’m a medicated piece of chicken shit. Come to think of it, there is a reason we have internal dialogues, or none of us would have any friends. In fact, several of us would definitely be in jail. 😉
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