My proposal for the next universal cellphone emoji being the BUTT DIAL?
Someone has to assert as Head of the Household, get over it and assume your roles or you could just stay single for crissakes.
Several times, I’ve been accused by a fellow female diner of eating too fast. What is too fast? Do I need to chew each bite like cow’s cud 42 times before swallowing? Here’s the real story…
You, girl, are a chatterbox. You have not stopped talking since you got here. I’m barely able to get a word in edgewise while you gloam on and on about whatever just to hear yourself talk, because your brain and your mouth have not learned to intake oxygen at regular intervals.
I choose to listen and eat while my food is still warm. I’m a good listener, but I get no appreciation for that. I don’t normally eat and talk at the same time like you do, with the gruesome chewed up contents of your hamburger hole spilling out like a broken washer door during heavy spin cycle. I was taught that is rude manners, especially in formal settings. This is a restaurant, not a man-cave.
I enjoy a good meal and conversation, but you’ve crossed the line when you erroneously accuse me of eating like a fresh recruit at a bootcamp mess hall. Sociopaths often express discomfort in someone being non-conforming and different than them, I’m starting to wonder about you and this silly fixation to insult me over some belief that I inhale my food. Yes, my plate is finished before yours because you can’t seem to STFU. Stop blameshifting or I’ll start wearing a bodycam when you’re around me.
I wanna eat dammit.
(Disclaimer: I’m one of those folks who remembers nearly everything that happened to me since I was a wee. Thank goodness some of those memories are fond ones.)
I attended a private school Kindergarten, while living in Garland Texas.
There I was, an extremely shy child minding my own business on the playground at recess, when all of a sudden…
Without warning, another kindergartner named Roy ran over to me, told me he loved me, bent me backwards in his arms, and landed a long, wet kiss on my mouth. Texas is the origin of the motto “Come and Take It”, but I don’t think I was giving out that kind of signal at 5 years old. I think Roy was really in love with me. I’ve heard of this happening between schoolchildren and in rare cases, pair-bonding all the way into adulthood.
The Rudolf Valentino film screen quality kiss Roy planted on me lasted so long, I was struggling to breathe. In retrospect, did the other little boys dare him to do this, were nickels going to be exchanged after settling up on the bet? If so, Roy was going way beyond carrying out a mere dare. Roy made certain I was good and kissed to the point I saw stars and felt my whole spine warm up.
In the midst of this, I heard shrieking and the panicked playground monitors broke us apart. But as I ran away embarrassed and hid behind the slide, peeking out to see what was to happen to little Roy, I realized that I didn’t mind the whole kissing thing that much. It looked like Roy just got a stern talking to by a teacher. Then he was made to apologize to me, which I found meddlesome by the adults since I was never a tattletale and I started crying. Roy stayed away from me from then on, and soon I would move away to another school district.
This incident has had me perplexed ever since.
Hope I didn’t miss my chance for Happily Ever After when I was 5.
Universe, sometimes your timing really sucks.
Roy Reese, wherever you are…thanks alot for setting the bar really high.
