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A little like Romeo and Juliet (Maybe)

There is a time and a place to lose your shit in a bad relationship.

But early morning at Starbucks is not the place.

Let me introduce Rudy and Tam.

Do we all remember the story of Romeo and Juliet? 

The star-crossed lovers that had a love so strong that the apparent lack made life not worth living?

Yeah, this has nothing to do with them.

Rudy and Tam have a different story.

Depending on how you view this, they are either in the middle of a really horrible breakup or this is just another day in the middle of one of the most dysfunctional relationships I have ever seen.

Lets meet Rudy and Tam, shall we?

Ladies first.

Tam is 2 women in one. 

Literally.

She is double the width and weight of your average woman. 

I don’t view that as fat-shaming as much as being mildly observant. 

She is also a mix of various clothing styles. 

Ugg boots are always nice, but striped rainbow thigh-high socks throws off the look badly.

Also, and this is just a personal choice, a tight tube top loses its charm when its 3 sizes too small and pushes the muffin top out to the point of needing a new name.

The Mushroom Cloud.

I have reread and edited the last few sentences several times to try and get it under the “Being Mean” wire and I finally have just given up. 

Some of you will read it and get your panties in a twist over it, and I will have to somehow live with that. (Let’s be honest, I have said worse and you were ok with it for a variety of reasons. If you are going to be a regular here, you are going to need to roll with an extra set of undies.)

Anyway, now that the wardrobe description is out of the way, like any movie set, the last step is hair and makeup.

The hair is a progressive mix of old school chola hair spray high mixed with black and a sickly strip of grey. 

The makeup has raccoon style black eyes and enough lipstick to make a professional clown say “Damn”!

This description is harsh and intentionally mean mainly because I don’t like her. (Plus, this is my world and I get to be a prick if I want to.)

As if this little visual treat is not enough to catch my eye, she is alternating between whispering hideously angry shit at Rudy, but ending each sentence with a 2 syllable scream.

“Mumblemumblemumble, FUCKING RUDY!!!” 

As far as vulgar public displays go, its not bad, I have seen worse, but it’s been awhile. 

Rudy, for his part, sits like a soldier experiencing severe PTSD, and maybe he is. 

This woman is the closest thing to the Vietnam war I have seen.

And how long has Rudy been dealing with this conflict?

Its like the relationship version of the “1000 yard stare”.

And he doesn’t move, like at all.

He just stares straight ahead and sips his coffee. 

And eventually, his strategy, or lack of, pays off. 

She stops. 

Breathing heavy, with a twitch in her left eye she just sits and glares at him. 

And then, in a most unsatisfying way, its over.

Rudy just gets up and walks out, trudging like the weary soldier he is.

And Tam follows. 

To her, the movement is like the bell in a boxing match. 

It’s back on. 

Outside, she seems to be screaming for the whole sentence now. (Loud enough to be heard thru the big bay window. 

Good luck, Rudy. 

You’re going to need it, son. 

 
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Posted by on March 2, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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Murder and itchy teeth.

Some situations remind you exactly why waterboarding was created.

There is nothing more annoying than a grown-up talking baby-talk.

And the extreme level of my annoyance and itchy molars has nothing to do with not having had my coffee yet.

At least I think it doesn’t.

Maybe.

But when a grown man begins whispering baby-talk into his iPhone, in line at Starbucks, ahead of me, I begin to realize what the inventor of the taser had in mind, someone in massive pain, shitting themselves, with no permanent damage.

At least, that is what this moment makes me hope he envisioned.

“No-no-no-no, I wuv yu tu muchie.”

This was said out loud, where other adults could hear it.

Are you fucking kidding me?

And just to put a little stank on this sin, HE HELD UP HIS FINGER TO HAVE THE CASHIER WAIT WHILE HE SAID IT!

I don’t care what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home, but don’t get between me and my coffee.

I will pull a “Java Coyote” on you and chew thru your arm to get to my coffee.

This seems extreme, but I made my peace with random heinous acts in the name of addiction a long time ago.

I finally got my order in and because I just get a house drip, they give it to me immediately instead of making me wait for the barrista to make it, so I don’t have to wait like the proles at the end of the counter.

I am peacefully cream and sugaring my fix when it starts back up.

“No-no-no-no yu gots to hung up first, sweetie-weetie”

He dropped his voice a touch out of some sort of sense of decency.

Maybe his parents are still alive or something. (And not that he is afraid to embarrass them, but that they will feel they have to do the right thing and put him down, like an honor killing or something.)

I am not one for the silent praying for a random gang beating in a Starbucks, but I realize that I have been doing just that for the last 5 minutes.

And the reality of it all is that his crime is not that huge in the grand scheme of things, but it hits a nerve that is lodged deep in my cerebral cortex. (That part of the brain that controls rage and swampass)

And sometimes you have to go with your instincts.

Primordial man had a reason for seeing the guy that lived in the cave next door, recognizing the beginnings of the pox and beating him to death at the water hole to protect the safety of the community.

I am ok with that.

Same thing here.

Unfortunately, there is a societal taboo about murder as a method of correcting annoying behavior.

Go figure.

Fine, have it your way, society.

But I know I am not alone on this one.

There will come a time that the percentage of cringing swampass will get high enough that some sort of atrocity at a major coffee house chain somewhere.

Part blog, part prophet.

Discuss.

 

 
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Posted by on March 18, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Raising the adult child.

It can be difficult, raising an adult child.

And I am not referring to a child that is late teens or early 20’s.

I mean the one you married.

There is a couple in Starbucks that fit this little scenario.

Lets call him Workman

And Workman looks exhausted.

Like, working 3 jobs type exhausted.

He swills coffee like a man trying to jumpstart his battered and spirit-broken heart.

Like he either wants a caffeine rush or a coronary, either one will do.

And sittlng across from him is a little honey we will call Babs.

Babs has that alert but useless look to her.

Just had her nails, hair, clothes, you names it, this leech has had it done by a professional recently.

And Workman is on the hook for indulging “Daddy’s girl”.

5 minutes of listening in fleshes out the story.

They both had solid careers.

And then she lay prone one evening and conceived.

Once the baby was born, an ugly cycle began.

The stay at home mom was born.

Don’t get me wrong, when your kidlets are wee ones, someone who shares the same blood should be with them, 24 7.

However, Babs and Workman’s kidlet just went back to college from the Xmas break.

And Babs is talking about getting involved with a ladies group for an “Event”.

Here’s why I am a psychic, watch me predict the future.

I know nothing about Bab’s, the other ladies involved, or the “Event”, but I will make a little prediction.

1. It will cost Workman money. (This one is a gimme, but I have taken an instant dislike to Babs and feel the need to point it out.)

2. It will not accomplish anything substantial in the real world. (By this I mean, if it is not completely obvious to anyone that sees it and requires anything that resembles an explanation.)

3. It will be little more than an ego stroke for a gaggle of well monied, useless house fraus from the beach cities. (Kind of like the human version of a Lamprey. A fish that attaches itself to other fish and eats the scraps.)

This annoys the crap out of me. Its like having a permanent house guest that will never leave, pick up a check, but will bitch at you about how little respect she gets.

However, its a common story, you know 3 or 4 Babs in your daily life, we all do.

Workman is stuck, raising the adult child.

And this is not a sexist thing, for every Babs, there is a Bob. (Male version of Babs)

I think recognition of who the Babs and Bobs in our lives are is sexist.

Men can only see Babs, but the Bobs are invisible to them.

Women can only see Bobs, and cannot see Babs at all.

And both are convinced that the others are lazy pieces of shit.

Sad thing is, they are both right.

There is a saying about marriage, you either grow together or you grow apart.

But what if one of you grows lazy, while the other one grows overworked and tired.

Eventually the Workman of the couple will either grow a lawyer or a coronary.

And really, both are preferable.

There is a reason why children grow up before you get sick of handling all of it.

Now imagine a child that never grows up, you end up “handling it” forever, but the child will bitch about how tired they are of the lack of respect for their “position” in the household.

You might be tempted to say that this is from my perspective and that I am transferring it onto Workman and Babs.

Wrong.

Its equal parts taken from their conversation, a little poetic license and the final part is my love of the annoying extreme.

And the fact that I don’t like Babs.

Makes me wonder what Workman sees in that leech.

 
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Posted by on February 14, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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