I would like to meet the person
responsible for making those g.d. wheeley-roller shoesneaker thingys that the kiddos seem to love so much these days.
And I would smack them upside their damn heads. I'd also include in that smack (and probably add a poke in the eye with a long pokey sharp stick) the parents who buy those shoes and let their children roll around them in highly unneeded places.
Like the grocery store.
For the second time in a little over a week, I have been slammed into by some little brat-on-wheels. This time, at least the little girl tried to slow herself, by holding her hand out to decrease the impact. And where did her little hanny-hand land? On my boob. Awesome. I was felt up today by a nine year old. Totally on my list of shit to do today, though I usually have a rather exclusive list of people who are allowed to touch my boobs, like the fiance, me, my doctor, and occasionally
zoobar.
And EVEN better, after I told the snot-face to "please not roll around the store, you could seriously hurt yourself or someone else" (I guess I should have said "hurt or sexually assualted someone else") Her asshat of a mother stormed up to me and rebuked me for disciplining her child. Since when is a suggestion considered discipline? I didn't even hiss or growl or yell or nothing. I only used a slightly exasperated tone.
All I could do was give the mother my blank stare of death (I've been told it's the scariest thing ever, next to Davie Bowie's crotch in the Labrynth), turn and walk away. It was all I could do, because if I had acted on any of the other reactions going through my head, I wouldn't be writing this, cause I'm pretty sure they don't have computers or access to the internets in the ada county jail.
Usually I would have been mildly annoyed and pissy but this episode was exasterbated by the fact that I had just been to Kinkos, my local one should win a prize for the wost costumer service ever, and I hadn't eaten my lunch and it was nearing on 3:00, and when my blood sugar drops I turn straight up evil.
And I would smack them upside their damn heads. I'd also include in that smack (and probably add a poke in the eye with a long pokey sharp stick) the parents who buy those shoes and let their children roll around them in highly unneeded places.
Like the grocery store.
For the second time in a little over a week, I have been slammed into by some little brat-on-wheels. This time, at least the little girl tried to slow herself, by holding her hand out to decrease the impact. And where did her little hanny-hand land? On my boob. Awesome. I was felt up today by a nine year old. Totally on my list of shit to do today, though I usually have a rather exclusive list of people who are allowed to touch my boobs, like the fiance, me, my doctor, and occasionally
zoobar.
And EVEN better, after I told the snot-face to "please not roll around the store, you could seriously hurt yourself or someone else" (I guess I should have said "hurt or sexually assualted someone else") Her asshat of a mother stormed up to me and rebuked me for disciplining her child. Since when is a suggestion considered discipline? I didn't even hiss or growl or yell or nothing. I only used a slightly exasperated tone.
All I could do was give the mother my blank stare of death (I've been told it's the scariest thing ever, next to Davie Bowie's crotch in the Labrynth), turn and walk away. It was all I could do, because if I had acted on any of the other reactions going through my head, I wouldn't be writing this, cause I'm pretty sure they don't have computers or access to the internets in the ada county jail.
Usually I would have been mildly annoyed and pissy but this episode was exasterbated by the fact that I had just been to Kinkos, my local one should win a prize for the wost costumer service ever, and I hadn't eaten my lunch and it was nearing on 3:00, and when my blood sugar drops I turn straight up evil.