Tag Archives: WTF

The Peach-Bean Strategem

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I know, I know. It’s been like 80 years. My bad yall.

 

In my defense, I’ve spent the last year in a whirlwind: engagement, wedding, now we are expecting!! Holy smokes right?

 

The Bean (yes, we call our son-to-be The Bean) is due in about 3 weeks, and I am so ready. As excited as we are about having our Bean here with us, this has been one long, long long pregnancy. I’ve gone through night sweats, day sweats, crazy dreams, swollen ankles, gigantic growing boobs, a waistline that refuses to give up the ghost resulting in a “B” belly silhouette that just makes me look fatter, broken underwire (while I was wearing it), waistbands of underwear just popping at work, swollen fingers that can’t wear my wedding rings, senseless crying, and many other ailments. I can no longer feel the urge to pee (thanks to my shifted bladder), so I just wear panty liners and do a lot of precautionary bathroom visits. I toddle about like a penguin from place to place bringing humor to whoever sees me, and get stuck in chairs in an endearing habit that the hubs calls “turtling”. My boss and GM have offered to buy Segway for me to get around the hotel. I’ve considered taking them up on it.

 

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What you can’t see here is that the elastic in my underwear’s waistband is busted, as is myunderwire… and my dignity.

 

All of this will be worth it once The Bean is here! Right?!?

 

So… anyway… that’s my excuse for being such a horrible slacker on my blog. I have missed this. So many stories and hot messes that I haven’t shared, hilarities that I didn’t document in their full glory. I hope I can make up for that.

 

For example, I’ve had one client recently tell me that she didn’t realize that I was pregnant, but just thought I was getting fatter (!) while another was trying to add up on her fingers the months between my wedding and due date to make sure “it added up right”. I swear on my life this stuff is really true. And I missed blogging about it.

 

Then there’s the creepy lady in the Honeybaked Hams that as snifing me and talking about how we have the same credit cards in a nutty, “Single White/ Black Female” kinda scenario… and the lady in the Asian restaurant we go to that gave the Hubs a high-five for… and I swear on y life this happened… for KNOCKING ME UP! Yes. YES. Her words, not mine. Hubs was grinning from ear to ear. I turned red, a pretty amazing feat for a brown girl.

 

So much I’ve missed in my blogging hiatus.

 

Right now I’m just focused on one goal: Evicting the Bean. I love him so, but that will not stop me from serving him with a notice to vacate. The doctor keeps saying “big people have big babies” and seems to be on this mission to convince me that my baby will be born as the Son of Hulk, but so far nothing. The back and forth game of will he/ won’t he is pushing me to the edge, and I’m ready to take this into my own hands.

 

I call it the Peach-Bean Strategem, after one of my favorite episodes of Doctor Who, the Sontaran Strategem.

There are several steps to this process, and we will carefully follow each one to ensure a swift victory:

  1. Start eating spicy food more often.
  2. Enjoy more bouncy time on my yoga ball.
  3. Um… physical congress (yall get my drift)
  4. More walks (or penguin toddles) around the lake by our house.
  5. The tried and true method: the Eggplant Parmesan from Scalini’s.

 

# 5 is really the piece de resistance… the no-holds barred, guaranteed final step in the Bean Eviction Notice… women in Atlanta have been standing by this recipe for years. Messy Jessy the BFF added this one to my Strategem. As a Peach myself I feel I stand a good chance of this working for me too.

 

Bee (yall know him as the BBE, BFE, now the BHE   – Best Husband Ever) seems willing to go along with the plan. I can’t tell if he’s truly on board, or just afraid of his pregnant wife who seems to be endowed with superhuman strength, yet still seems to todle like a penguin, and get stuck in chairs like an upside down turtle.

 

Granted, the Peach-Bean Strategem may be as doomed as the Sontaran Strategem ( read the synopsis of the episode), but I’m sure it will make for some good stories. In the interim I plan to spend some quality time with the Bee, go do adult stuff that I probably won’t be able to d much of for a few years(any suggestions welcome), and take lots of naps in between my plotting, spicy food and yoga ball humping.

Yall pray for us…

 

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It’s My Birthday! No, not really.

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So I know you guys will enjoy this…

 

My clients that just left after a two-week program took us out to dinner at Kobe as a thank –you… totally unexpected and very, very cool. The staff for this conference was mostly male, and mostly pranksters. Every day, they pulled a new one on me!

 

So I should not have been at all surprised when after dinner, this dude with a giant drum comes BANG-BANG-BANG into the hibachi room, followed by one of our servers with a cupcake on a plate.

 

During dinner, we’d been talking about upcoming birthdays among the staff, so I’m clapping along with everyone else, trying to figure out whose birthday it is. I was virtually… no LITERALLY speechless when she plops that cupcake in front of me, lights the candle with her little lighter and starts leading everyone into a round f “happy birthday”.

 

My birthday is in December.

 

I was horrified and out of breath from trying not to laugh outright at our poor little server, who, by proxy, was now party to this joke. I’m also craning my neck around, trying to figure out WHO DID THIS.

 

As I’m struggling to breathe, and trying to work it all out, she crams this hat on my head.

happy birthday lol

THIS is why I don’t like restaurants singing happy birthday to me. Once when I was turning 16 I went with friends to a Bennigan’s on my birthday, where they made me dance on a chair waving sugar packets in my hands like castanets. I’ve been traumatized ever since.

 

 

Anyhoo, for the rest of the conference (we had one more day with them), every conference staff member snickered out a “happy birthday”

 

They all kindly signed my hat, so I will never forget them. Not that I ever really would but… 🙂

signed har

 

Apparently One Size DOES NOT Fit Most

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onesize

 

So… I was telling the BFE about my visit to the Farmer’s Market with Messy Jessy last week, and he stopped me and told me that I should blogging about what happened. So here I am.

 

Let me first start by saying that this is NOT a rant about being a big girl in a size 2 world… I am more happier with myself and my life than I hae ever been. I know I have to lose weight, and it’s a process. This is about other people, and their awkward WTF statements.

 

So here’s what happened:

Messy Jessy came down to visit this past weekend, and found ourselves wandering around the Farmer’s Market in Winter Garden. I was excited, since I’d been wanting to go to this Farmer’s Market for a while, but always missed it! I was starting to think it was the Shangri-la of Winter Garden… or perhaps a desert oasis for the farmer’s market challenged. I swear, EVERY TIME I tried to go, the fricking thing wasn’t there.

 

So we’re wandering around, amused at all the different vendors and their wares, and, thanks to the mobile credit card apps that all vendors have these days, unfettered by the “oh, sorry I don’t have any cash” excuse. We were literally sitting ducks for every adorable hat-making, custom jewelry-selling, home-made pickling, hippie-smelling soap-making tent in that place.

 

But I digress.

 

We walked into the coolest tent in the place – this lady made the coolest aprons evarrrr!!! Jessy and I ooh-ed and aah-ed so much that the proprietess comes over and enthusiastic shows us her different styles and patterns. Just as I’m flicking through the racks and debating which card I can charge my new apron to that will least upset Mr. Scrooge – I mean, BFE – the  proprietess comes over and puts her hand on my shoulder. Her first mistake.

 

First of all… don’t touch me. I don’t know you. We are not cool. She clearly did not realize that my personal space is protected by a social contract I maintain with everyone around me, an invisible bubble that only those of my choosing are allowed to enter.

 

So I was already unsettled by the touching with Apron Woman upped the ante and added the piece de resistance: “I just want to let you know, I have PLENTY of clients that are YOUR SIZE so I’d be happy to make to take your measurements, and in a couple of weeks you can come back and pick up your own apron!”

 

WHAAAT?!!?! It’s an apron!! I thought aprons were like umbrellas, ponchos and socks” one size fits most!

 

Seriously – should I be getting measured for aprons now? Shopping in the husky section for my kitchen attire? I am so confused. I have aprons at home, aprons that I share with my skinnier BFE, and I feel like they still do a pretty good job of covering the necessary areas.

 

After getting schooled on proper apron attire, I thanked said proprietess, removed my personal space out of her reach, and headed to a tent that is DEFINITELY “one size fits most”: the headbands and hair clips tent.  Or should I get measured for one of those too?

 

Well I do have a big head. 🙂 Bigger than most?

 

southern peach

Wal-Mart. A Love Story.

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So I wrote this back in early December, and for reasons to be revealed in the blog post I couldn’t post it. Until now.

Happy New Year’s yall!!

– Peach

 

 

 

Every. Fricking. Time.

Today: found an item on my Christmas shopping list for the BFE at walmart.com and, since i was so late in ordering, decided the “site to store” option would secure my item at a good price and i would leisurely walk up to customer services and pick it up. Right?? Ha.

First thing: no where on the site does it tell you where the “site to store” desk is located. So i headed to customer service and stood behind a girl that was smacking her head.

 

 

If you’re not familiar with the Smack Technique, let me explain: when your scalp itches, you smack your head instead of scratching it, usually to avoid messing up your hair (weave/ wig) or, if you’re getting a perm/relaxer soon, as this avoids irritating the scalp. It’s a fairly ghetto thing to do, and i am ashamed to admit that after learning about it in college (where most of our worst habits as people are formed) i have been a hair smacking offender from time to time, in between relaxers. This girl wasn’t waiting on her next Dark n’ Lovely fix; she was slapping her head to avoid messing up her rather ratty weave ponytail. I was a bit intrigued, and found myself staring without really meaning to: how often do you get to see that kind of train wreck up close?? The only thing that finally drew my eye away was the long false nail of the customer service rep.

 

Ever find yourself in a situation so crazy that you start looking behind pillars and corners, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out and say “you’ve been punked”?? Only, that never happens, a: because you’re not a celebrity and b: because that show isn’t even on the air anymore. So there’s nothing left but to realize that real life can be truly, truly crazy.

 

So – Yep, the customer service rep had one of the longest set of false nails I’d ever seen, and was missing at least three of them. I got a pretty good look at them as she was waving them in the face of a guy I can only assume was her baby’s daddy – not because I’m falling prey to stereotypes, but because she was specifically yelling at him about not picking up their son when he knew the kid needed to be at football practice. Guy just stood there taking the verbal lashing while standing awkwardly in jeans and a construction worker vest. Poor man. Yes, this was all happening while I stood in line behind Smack Weave Girl.

 

When I finally got to the front, I found out that the Customer Services desk is not the same as the “Site to Store” desk, and that was located at the back of the store. Le sigh. I counted my losses and figured I’d come away with the start of a good blog 🙂 and headed to the back of the store. Cutting through the men’s clothing section to save time and dodge the shopping carts, I got sniffed – yes, SNIFFED! – by a creeper near the men’s sweaters…

 

Finally reached the Site to Store section, which requires walking past the electronics section, and a display of the VERY ITEM I WAS THERE TO BUY (Call of Duty Black Ops II). Two things: 1 – I discovered that the Site to Store line is also the line for layaways at Christmas time, making for mass chaos. and 2 –  I couldn’t just forego the Site to Store line in favor or grabbing one of the games off the shelf, since I’d already paid for the other one online.

 

So I stood in line behind a woman wearing jeggings about a size too small, and watched another woman having a meltdown with her husband over a child’s pink ATV on layaway. Finally, I whipped out my phone and began to capture the entire experience. Got to the Smack Technique and realized that I couldn’t post this until I gifted the video game to the BFE unless I wanted to ruin the surprise. Le sigh again.

 

Oh, but the story doesn’t end there. One of the reasons I chose to pick up the game from Wal-Mart was because I also purchased the other half of BFE’s Christmas present – tickets to a hockey game – online, and selected the option to pick up hard tickets from, as Ticketmaster called it, a “retail location”. It wasn’t until I paid an extra $3.95 each that the website showed me that Ticketmaster’s “retail locations” for picking up tickets in my area were ALL Wal-Marts. So I thought I’d be smart and kill two birds with one stone, pick up the video game AND the tickets in one swoop. Too bad I picked the one Wal-Mart in my area that couldn’t print the tickets. So two days after my initial visit I found myself at another Wal-Mart, braving the crazy for my beloved BFE.

 

Get to the electronics section, since that’s where they print the tickets, and pass another display stand of Black Ops II games on my way to the cash register (the irony was not lost on me). The cashier prints my tickets… on receipt paper. I paid $3.95 for each ticket for RECEIPT PAPER!! What the hell?!?! Seriously??

 

I feel like Wal-Mart and Ticketmaster partnered together to jack me. Yes, JACK. ME! I ended up in Wal-Mart not once, but twice in the course of 3 days. I got entranced by a Customer Rep’s nails, watched the magical art of head smacking for ratty weaves, got sniffed by a creeper in the Men’s section, and finally got to investigate Jeggings up close. I didn’t even include the number of “pants on the ground” devotees I witnessed, and caught a guy checking out my rack. All in all, I think I got my Wal-Mart fill for the next 18 months. Until then, I return back to the safe, normal confines of Target, where all of the employees wear name tags and easily recognizable work-related clothing, and the only uncomfortable moments I’ve experienced have been hiding from Hot Doctor, walking into a stranger’s fart cloud, and stalking a Target employee named Bubba. Yep, Target, sweet Target.

 

Well played, Martha Stewart, Well Played.

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PINTEREST, I’M LOOKING AT YOU!

**Shakes fist angrily at the sky.**

I am convinced that pinterest was invented by conservative men that are determined to get the liberal, bra-burning, birth control taking wild women back into the kitchen and back to making things “homemade” and thusly created a website to draw them in and incite a crafting wave that has even resulted in television shows about crafting. Why buy chicken at Boston Market when you can raise and create the entire meal by raising the chickens, growing the vegetable garden, and harvesting the tea leaves (for sweet tea of course) yourself, all in the apron you made yourself from a pattern you found on Pinterest? I believe that we’re all born with talents, and it’s ok to rely on the talents of others – say, a person that knows how to cook versus my pathetic efforts – instead of trying to excel in every “pinned” idea on fricking pinterest, as we are determined to swap recipes, share wedding ideas, and showcase our personal clothing style. There is NOTHING wrong with utilizing the Boston Market drive through to pick up dinner for you and your boo while showcasing your style in betty boop pajama pants, sequined yellow box flip flops and a beanie.

 

Yes pinterest, thanks to the “anyone can craft like this, it’s easy!!!” attitude, and the wild, waving-your-carefree-hot-glue-gun-in-the-air website of yours I just dropped $62 at Michael’s tonight.

 

At the cash register I hung my head in shame, and texted the BFE as I walked out the door.

Me to the BFE: “Don’t me mad”

My next test to the BFE: “I just left Michael’s about $62 poorer.”

I got no return text, this warranted a phone call that was basically heavy breathing and one long sigh.

I sighed too.  A $62, pinterest-induced sigh.

 

I also blame Martha Stewart for part of this. Her corporate plot to corner the women’s market in adorable, crafting supplies and organizational tools while charging exorbitant prices is working, and I’m ashamed to admit I have fallen prey to her ploys. It pisses me off that Stewart knows ever shade of blue or blush that I would peronally enjoy, and uses this information to her advantage, forcing me to hand over my Disney Debit Visa (ha!) time and time again at my local Staples. Seriously, she’s making a killing off of the Pinterest crowd.

 

Which brings us back… and PINTEREST I’M STILL LOOKING AT YOU!

First, let’s talk about how you sucked me into your ways by making all of the crafts seem easy and fun. I started looking at ideas in August for holiday stuff, thinking, “ooh, this looks easy!” “oh, I can do that!” “Man, doing that myself is gonna save me soooo much moneeeyyyyy…” Huh.

 

One key thing that most pinterest crafts need: a hot glue gun. Another thing they all need: fricking patience. I did not have either of these things as I ambled into the Michael’s, starry-eyed and excited to produce handmade ornaments for B and I’s first Christmas in our own place.

 

 

Craft #1: Cute, painted glass ornaments

All I thought I’d need: glass ornaments, simple acrylic paint and a small amount of competence.

What I actually needed: glass ornaments, a large amount of skill, and Martha Stewart paint (or so she would have me believe)

 

This is where I say “well played” to our favorite former felon, Martha Stewart. I’m standing in the glass ornament aisle, and guess what brand of acrylic paint is located there? Martha’s! I grab it immediately, ignoring the $3.49 a bottle price tag, as I was so excited to work on my project. As I wonder around the store some more, I start thinking about the acrylic paint I normally buy for projects (yes I’ve crafted before) and how it’s significantly cheaper and also significantly missing from the acrylic paint display next to the holiday ornaments.

I find the rest of the acrylic paint selection on the OTHER END OF THE STORE, no where near the holiday mania and impulse holiday craft shopping on the other side of the store. And guess what? It’s priced at 99 cents. NINETY-NICE CENTS, as in TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS cheaper than Martha’s paint. Determined not to let the felon win, I swap out my “glittery gold” Martha branded paint for the “Venetian gold” color that’s the less than a dollar. I did keep the “pond” color, because, well let’s face it – Martha’s color palette really is dead on. So again to Martha, I say, well played, madame. Well played.

But don’t think the foolishness ends there.

 

Craft Project #2: Sassy and super cool beaded ornament

All I thought I’d need: Some pretty beads and clear glass ornaments, some level or finger dexterity

What I actually needed: A LOT of fricking beads, clear glass ornaments, A LOT of free time,  A LOT of manual dexterity and… a glue gun!!

 

I got halfway through my trip to the Michael’s before I realized I did not have a glue gun to hold this project together – literally. I finally found a glue gun and glue sticks and then I had to pick a “cute” glue gun (really Peach??) in a cool design. I’m not proud of the 5 minutes I spent in the glue gun aisle, comparing patterns, but it really happened.

 

On my way home, I kept thinking how it would have been cool too add in some blue beads on the ornaments and how I should have gotten some. “No worries”, I thought. “I’ll get them on my next trip”.

 

MY NEXT TRIP – are you kidding me. I’m already planning a future visit.

 

Well played Martha and Pinterest. Well played. I shake my fist at you while simultaneously burning all the fingers on my other hand, and thinking about what color ribbon I need to use for hanging my ornaments on the tree.

See you both again real soon!

Road Trip!!

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So…  with tomorrow being Thanksgiving , and the holiday season of traveling to and fro and visiting friends and family is about to begin! It got me to thinking back to about a month and some change ago, when I went home to Atlanta for a quick weekend jaunt, and the BFE and I took Ojeda with us.

 

God bless. It was a hot mess.

 

There’s something about guys – you out them in groups, and they conspire and join forces on the craziest sh!t. We left Orlando really early and I guess the early morning rush combined with their general loopiness to great a cacophony of mayhem and foolishness. Pretty early in I decided to journal all of the stuff that happened on our ride up – otherwise no one would believe it. So here it goes…

 

 

5:41 am – BFE and Ojeda come up with a new product that turns your farts into floral smells. They nominate me as the spokesperson and even come up with a commercial. The slogan: “do it with dignity”.

 

6:04 am – BFE drove and I played with Google Sky Map while the stars were still out. HOW HAVE I NEVER KNOWN ABOUT THIS APP?? So neat!

 

7:21 am – We stop at Mickey D’s. Ojeda argues with the cashier over coffee. Dude keeps asking him “How do you want your coffee?”, and O keeps responding, “with cream and sugar”, only to get a response from cashier dude of  “yes but how do you want it?”I could see O turning red and immediately add this event to our trip report.

They ask for a name for our order and I toy with the idea of giving them the name “Primrose Everdeen” so I could yell “I volunteer as tribute!” I know it’s cliche but I do not care.

 

9:04 am – While driving through Tifton, GA (the Reading Capitol of the World) and BFE gets cut off by a large SUV. We pass the vehicle, curious to look at the driver, and debate whether it was a redneck version of Pat from SNL or Honey Boo-Boos mama. Then BFE and O contest that Tifton, GA could not possibly be the reading capitol of the world. I tell them both to stfu.

 

9:20 am – BFE and O argue that computers have only 3 uses for guys: email, facebook and porn. Apparently girls only use computers for email, facebook and pinterest.

 

9:26 am – Pass an old, run-down farmhouse. Ojeda, my Southern-illiterate friend, asks, “is that a plantation?” I tell him to stfu. He asks if plantations are like haciendas. I tell him again: stfu. BFE giggles.

 

10:14 am – We argued over whether pandas and koalas are bears. Fact: koalas are marsupials and pandas are bears. Also discussed acid rain. For some reason, BFE mimics acid rain with a disco beat. Strange. He drives on in silence.

 

10:24 am – Stop at Pilot plaza outside of Macon for gas and bio break. I see a gas truck there. I point and laugh “Bahaha where do gas trucks get gas?!” No one laughs. Guys begin serious discussion of diesel versus gas, and fuel planes fueling mid-air, etc. I don’t understand how fuel planes are more interesting than my gas truck joke. Boys suck.

 

10:36 am – B asks whether to take 75 N through Macon or 475 around Macon. After much debate we decide to take 75 N. O jokes, “you know whichever route we take it is going to be the wrong one!” Immediately the speed limit drops from 65 to 55. B’s all like, “we should have taken 475!” I think he just said that to be on O’s side. Just sayin.

 

10:41 am – Pass sign that says in all caps “lust drags you to hell”. Ain’t that the truth. Interesting change from all the anti-abortion signs, “truck driver lounge/ massage” advertisements and stripper billboards that you usually see in South GA and North FL.

 

10:51 am – Learned something new today. B and O argue about the origin of mobile homes. B says mobile homes are called such because they are from Mobile, AL. O insists it is because they are mobile. Research on the snopes.com website confirms that D is correct.

 

11:00 am – Ojeda reads myths from snopes.com and we guess whether they’re true or false. We’re obviously running out of material.

 

11:40 am – Traffic slows for accident. Ojeda rolls down window and signals to driver driving Dodge Caravan in next lane to see if we can get over. Driver looks at him and then stares straight ahead, continuing to edge forward with no knowledge of O’s request. String of 4 letter words ensues. Once we pass accident BFE floors it to stream past Dodge Caravan dude while I fist pump in the air. I didn’t see it but suspect that Ojeda flipped him off.

 

12:04 pm – Finally – THANK YOU SWEET BABY JESUS! – we arrive in Atlanta. Ojeda yells “ATL Dirty South B!tches!!!! …Oh mylanta!”  out the window with complete abandon. We check in on Facebook at the Pink Pony South. We have arrived!

Choosing My Attitude!

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Lately I’ve been working on this theory I have – if you choose your attitude, no matter what, your day will be a good one.

People often think of me as this bubbly, perky person. I have no idea where this idea came from. I’m kinda of an a-hole. I try not to be, but I have some a-hole tendencies. When I’m frustrated or if the “triumvirate” occurs: hungry, hot tired – then the a-hole tendencies show up in spades.

That said, I’m determined to work on my interactions with others, and my overall outlook by choosing my attitude each day. I make a conscious decision to be pleasant and friendly to others, to smile, and to be a positive force wherever I go. Mostly to work on being myself, and occasionally just to eff with people. I am an a-hole after all. 🙂

Some day positive thinking works, and some days I get home with a desperate need to bang my head against the wall. I’m doing my best to get up everyday and just keep trying again. My hope is eventually the positive days will outweigh the crappy ones, and I’ll lose less brain cells and make fewer holes in the walls of our new condo.

Yesterday and today are perfect examples of the dichotomy of my positivity efforts: I was fully prepared last night to write a blog about how my experiment in positive thinking was totally working. Yesterday I had a great day at work, was incredibly productive, smiled, felt good, headed over to the Whole Foods where they were playing “Barracuda” in the grocery store which put a little wriggle in my step, joked with another lady that was shopping about how, since it was her birthday, she should just get TWO cupcakes instead of agonizing over which ONE cupcake to get. I walked out of the store feeling just as energized as I had all day.

I got home and had a great dinner with the BFE, we talked about our workdays over dinner, worked out together later, and just generally had a great evening. The positivity from my Awesome Day carried over into my morning today, and I tidied up our condo before I left for work, made myself breakfast, and bounced out of the door to work – ON TIME (sort of). Today had a great start!

Then – it happened.

This WOMAN in a RED SUV zipped out from behind a slow-moving school bus and cut me off on my way to work. This wouldn’t normally be a big deal, but I almost rear-ended her because of how close she cut it. If I had, it would have been the 2nd dent left in her bumper – clearly she’d tried this crap before. I honked at her, to express my displeasure, and she FLIPPED ME OFF! WTH? So I waved my finger in the air in a “no you di-in’t!” kind of way, and tried to let it go. I could see in her side rearview that she was yelling things at me, and then she slammed on her breaks. Seriously. I didn’t think people still did that kind of stuff.

I tried to get around her, but she haphazardly slid her car halfway into the other lane to block me then slid back over. I could see her in her side mirror, making faces like a maniac! It was unreal. Why exert so much energy and nastiness at a stranger? A stranger YOU cut off in the first place? This woman was a bully. A grown-up, ignorant, sorry-ass bully. In a red SUV.

 

Remember that scene in the movie Fried Green Tomatoes where Kathy Bates’ character goes nuts and rams the back of the little compact car of those two skanks that steal her parking space? She rams the car over and over while yelling Towanda!!! In my mind, I had an “Ally McBeal” moment just like that, where instead of slamming on my brakes to avoid red SUV lady’s already abused bumper, I slammed on the gas and went full steam ahead, crunching her trunk into her backseat. When she got out to yell some more and assess the damage, I simply shouted “Towanda!!!!!” while simultaneously punching her in the throat and kidneys. Onlooking drivers cheered for me from their cars, like I was a gladiator in the ring, grateful that I’d taken the middle school bully down a notch and taught her what happens to aggressive social psychopaths that ruin the morning drive for everyone.

In reality I slowed down and let her speed on. The truth of it was, I wanted nothing to do with her nonsense, I just wanted to get over it. The encounter left me shaky, my heart was racing and my palms a little sweaty. I do NOT like confrontations! And these days you never know what that person is going to do, or just how crazy they are. I remember a story back in Atlanta, where a road-raged-fuled driver would get so angry in traffic that he started baking potatoes every night so that he could throw them at the cars of drivers he thought weren’t driving properly. That’s nothing compared to drivers that prefer bullets over potatoes.

 

The whole point is, red SUV lady’s behavior kinda pooped all over my day. I mean, a massive Debbie Downer kinda feeling, all before 9 am. I struggled to find the bright side to any of what happened, and just couldn’t. I even thought to myself that harboring ill will wouldn’t do any good, but I hoped in my heart of hearts that I’d see her again and cut HER off to see how SHE liked it. Christ commanded us to love our neighbors. I struggle with that part sometimes, especially with the only “love” I have for someone is my “love tap” I wanna give their car, or how I’d “love” to slap them across the face. I said I was an a-hole. Look, I’m trying ok?

 

The poopy feeling carried over into the rest of my day, and the funk of crappiness just settled over everything for a while. It took several hours before I remembered to CHOOSE MY ATTITUDE and get back with the program. An evening with friends and the love of my life helped with that. By bed time, things were right as rain.

 

Seriously, this attitude stuff is a process. It’s hard at times, but I’ve found the more I try the better my days go. The urge to smile comes quicker, the laughter and the jests with the people around me. I’m less inspired to punch people in the throat and spleen and visions of Kathy Bates and her battle cry “Towanda!” are fewer and further in between.

 

Am I still an a-hole? Pretty much. But at least I’m choosing to work on it!