I’ve really had it with, well, a WHOLE POOP LOAD of things. In honor of my exasperation I’ve adopted the oh so blasé motto “Whatever” these days. I really think it’s a public service I’m doing here. It’s either this or unspeakable acts of crazy!
So the cat got all Prozac-needing on us while we were gone for a mere 10 DAYS. Mind you we left him with caretakers to CARE for him and his side kick who is, by the way, FINE! He went and demonstrated his undying need for our presence by ralphing all over the carpets. He has also spent hours howling at us by way of punishment since we got back. You walk into the room, he howls. You leave the room he (though he is fixed and a MALE no less) caterwauls like Elizabeth Taylor on a hot tin roof! WHATEVER!!! Sonny, did they not tell you that you are, in fact, a FREAKING cat for Ruth’s Chris sake?! Get over it, go chase a dam mouse! Or better yet chase away the squirrels so daddy can wave the freaking white flag and end this senseless(as in he is OUT of his senses)war!
I sat down with my two beautiful and, SHOCKER, well behaved youngest kids at a table in the crowded Chick-fil-A near home yesterday. Now I realize I’ve got a modicum of responsibility in this one. After all I did take them there at 1:20 in the afternoon. Which is sort of like taking them to Gitmo. It’s crowded, smells funky and no one is ever getting out of there. So mea culpa on that one. However, the RUDE Southies, as in South Boston. I could tell. Really there is NO mistaking that accent! Who were quite obviously on vacation and decided to stop in with their 247 member Irish mob in decked out in full Red Sox regalia. Where completely at fault for the next WHATEVER!!! moment.
There were two tables open. One was one of those 20 foot high bar type tables with stools that no responsible parent of toddlers would EVER consider sitting them in. Which makes me wonder if Chick-fil-A is sending mixed messages… Cute cows, kids meals and 40% of their seating is now anything BUT kid friendly. Note to self: Check into the possibility of a Chick-fil-A conspiracy. The other a nice table for four that just happened to be in the general vicinity of the slew of Southies. I pulled a chair out for my youngest. Never noticing Whitey Bulger’s second cousin was three feet away from the same EMPTY TABLE! As I doled out the fries I (and the rest of the 2 million detainees in the restaurant) over heard Ms. Bulger tell Ma Bulger that I’d taken their table. They began to harrumph, fuss, CURSE and moan about mean ME and my kids taking the table that had OBVIOUSLY been reserved for them hours before when the management was alerted that they’d have VIPs in from Boston that day. So sorry.. No actually I’m not… WHATEVER!!!, you Bean Town buttheads! You made me so mad I’m actually going to commit a mortal sin and root for the YANKEES next time they play you! (I can already hear The DH gushing with pride that I’ve finally been pulled over to the dark side…don’t buy us the $700 seats at Yankee Stadium just yet babe it’s ONLY when they play the Red Sox. I’m still a Padres girl).
And now we can hear The DH having his WHATEVER moment!
Ah it feels good to be back on the blog hollering at nameless people in fast food establishment and neurotic pets!