Knowledge is power if you know it about the right people.
Funny how a change in status can change your perspective.
“I thought time out was enough…until I had children.”
“I had a totally different opinion of cheating…until I got married.”
“I thought pre-marital sex was bad…until I had it.”
You get the idea…
Me: You can’t go anywhere because you need a bath.
Toddler: No I don’t. whine
Me: Yes you do.
Toddler: I not pissy! Smell me!
*wavy dream lines*
I was getting an intricate new tattoo. It was like a paisley peacock and something else paisley. Lisa (thegoodmrsh) was there for moral support. I was getting it on the back side of my hip (I don’t think that makes it tramp stamp material, but I’m not sure about that), so I was lying face down on a massage table. This weird blond chick kept harassing me while the dude was inking me up. She was pulling my hair, spraying water in my face, withholding my pain medicine. I told her that I would beat her to a pulp if she didn’t leave me alone.
That tattoo artist finally got the chick to leave me alone and he went back to it. It hurt like you know what. It felt like someone was punching me in my hip. Lisa was being horrible support. She just sat against the wall, reading her book like nothing was going on.
After the tattoo was done, I went to pay the guy and he gave me the bill, telling me all he needed for payment was for me to sign it “Miss Jackson if you’re nasty.” So I did. After that, Lisa and I headed to an all you can eat prime rib and funnel cake buffet, where I discovered that someone had run the bill up on my cell phone looking at porn.
I’ve decided that, should I get this job and have some disrespectful, swearing and name-calling boys placed in the home, that I will use one of the following retorts:
I’m rubber. You’re glue. What you say about me bounces off me and sticks to you.
I know you are, but what am I?
It’s been my experience that these types of responses only work with a strictly dead-pan delivery. No smiles. No rolling of the neck. No whiny sing-song voice like a little kid. Just a straight, matter-of-fact tone. The reward is the recipient’s facial expression. And the fact that they end up so frustrated with your corny response that they give up.
The idea of doing this is hilarious to me, so I hope I do get at least one potty mouth. Yes, I have a strange sense of humor. Suck it up.
My freshman year of college, one of the cafeteria workers had a crush on me. Back then, he seemed old as all get out, but he was probably only around 30. He worked at the grill, and though I loved me a grilled cheese sandwich, I avoided the grill like the plague when he was on it. Anyway, I was a shy 18 year old, and hated (as I still do) drawing attention. My roommate, who liked to stick her nose in other men’s affairs, decided to speak to the cafeteria worker on my behalf. She told me, “I talked to Jed. He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. He won’t bother you anymore.” (Jed wasn’t his name. I just made that up.) A few days later, I decided to brave the grill while Jed was on it. I said hello & politely requested colby jack on wheat. Then Jed started going off about how he was a grown man and could handle rejection, and how I shouldn’t have sent my friend to do my dirty work. I wasn’t the way I am now, so I just got super embarrassed as my face flushed. Then Jed turned to Burly Man (another cafeteria worker) and said, “You see dat? I confronted her! I confronted her!” And I never ate grilled cheese at the north side cafeteria again. The end.