Wednesday, June 20, 2007

So much for a long hiatus..

My mood was definitely hormonally charged, if you know what I mean, and today I am feeling significantly better - and just to clarify, my snark was about to take the form of a long and somewhat self-pitying rant, along the lines of why was I blessed with so many AFGOs in my life. Are you familiar with the acronym? A friend of many years ago told me it was floating around her department. Another Fucking Growth Opportunity. My life has been just one damn AFGO after another, and sometimes I pause in the insanity and look around and see people who are skating along and treating a hangnail like an earth-shattering event, and I kinda want to kill them. Or at least whine publicly. And that's unattractive so I don't do it. Much.

So today I amused myself by making a list of people who need killin'. It is by no means a complete list, but off the top of my head, I want to kill, and speaking of skating:

The inventor of the Heely.
The children who skate in Publix. (supermarket)
The parents of the children who skate in Publix.

Actually, I'd spare the kids, it's not their fault they are being raised by upper middle class white trash, I'd just trip them, so sorry about those front teeth honey, but your parents have more money than brains so I'm sure you can get 'em fixed. Maybe you'll learn something - naaah.

But if God is fair and just, the inventor of those Satanic Skates will get to spend eternity in the hell of a supermarket in which skating 10 year olds ram the carts their lazy, overindulgent mothers let them push into other customers, and the inventor should get rammed at least 4x an hour, at 10 mph. Randomly in the back of the ankle, and, when he least expects it, a good shot to the crotch.

And the parents - I truly don't give a rat's ass if your spoiled spawn bust their heads open on the street, but I do care very much that they are going to run over some little old lady who is minding her own business in the cat food aisle, and bust her hip and put her in a nursing home for the rest of her life, all because she never expected a kid on roller skates to plow into her while she was buying cat food. Her fault, obviously, right Mommy?

I'm sorry, but WHAT THE FUCK is wrong with you people? Can't you control your own goddamn kids enough to get them to NOT skate in the frigging SUPERMARKET? You are walking right behind him, apparently in a heavily medicated stupor, because telling your child that The Store Is Not a Place for Skating never occurs to you. That seems so basic to me, like "The middle of the highway is the wrong place for soccer practice." See, I'm trying, I'm relating it to soccer practice, something your people understand.

So for you, you should spend eternity 80 years old and with osteoporosis, with your own ill-mannered brats eternally 10 years old and doing 20 mph and zooming at you around blind corners. Let's see you jump out of the way.

There, that's part of my They Need Killin' List. It's long. But, and perhaps miraculously, NONE of my office colleagues are on it at the moment. A few engineers, of course, and definitely surveyors. Oh yeah.

Jan B. - I hope you won't take this as snark because it isn't. I'll be 49 next week and, despite damn near dying in February, I look and act and feel younger than my age, I do not feel old at all. I feel great. I have a ton of energy and I can work a crazy job and go to the gym after work, though not today because I wrote myself a note excusing me from PE, for female reasons. I am very happy with me at this stage of my life. But the first pop culture reference that came to mind when describing my foul mood was a movie that came out in 1979. That's almost 30 years ago. That is not something young people usually do. I'm old enough to have 30+ years of pop culture gumming up my brain since I became an adult, and I was rinsing my office tea mug yesterday and realized that the MUG is almost 20 years old, and I remember buying it on a trip with the kids to my native land (DC) in the Museum of Natural History. I had two kids with me on that trip. That is also not something young 'uns think. And two of the people in my department are younger than my son. Again, that doesn't happen until you become one of the old people. This isn't a bad thing, it's just how it is.

Janet - I am all about the Knitting for Morons. I plan to curl up with that shawl (I switched yarns after starting it with the brown stuff from eBay - not soft enough) after dinner. It's a nice pattern, after a couple of repeats it becomes natural, like feather and fan and some others, and you can see a mistake before you get 10 rows away.

Sallyjo - thanks for the clue to read the Harlot and the Curmudgeon. I don't read either of them on a regular basis. But no, this had nothing to do with that cool knitter infighting crap. Just real life.

5 comments:

dragon knitter said...

i REFUSE to buy those skates for my son. i don't want him killing himself going down a hill and into traffic, and i would NEVER let him wear them in a supermarket situation. idiots.

ikate said...

I hate, hate, hate those damn skate shoes and I can't stop from laughing everytime I see a kid trip, stumble, fall or run into something while wearing those. It's Darwinism at it's best.

sallyjo said...

I don't think it's hormonal. I think it has to do with some planetary alignment that "they" don't tell us about, because then we would have an excuse (even if it is a bad one) to rip ten-year-old boys to shreds, which I almost did yesterday. They weren't even on skates.
On the other hand, when you get to be my amazingly old age of 53, you will begin to feel that you actually can tell these parents, loudly and publicly, that they have their heads up their asses. In front of their kids. Because somebody has to.
I guess my planetary flux hasn't worn off yet. Maybe I'm just cranky.

Catherine said...

The last time I spoke to someone else's child - two children, actually, who were gleefully trying to stomp BABY DUCKLINGS, a sight that made me so sick I went into instant Mom and Scout Leader mode, and I had to tell them to "stop that right now." I nearly got my ass kicked by their big sweaty redneck father, who charged up to me with clenched fists and screamed in my face. And then daddy and his sick little fucks walked off muttering about the bitch who dared to speak to them like that, and boy he told her, didn't he boys? No kidding. I was genuinely scared I was about to get beat up, until sweaty redneck realized that there were witnesses nearby. It put me off addressing other children's behavior unless I'm accompanied by backup.

Cheryl, the knitting Jungian said...

I knew I was an Official Old Faht™ when I heard myself thinking "What's the matter with kids these days?"!