I’m an ass.
I’m a line jumper and this will shock none of you.
Saturday was our neighborhood block party. Everyone comes out to celebrate and brings
their favorite dishes for all to share.
I realize it is very, very rude to stand at the beginning of
the line and ask everyone to use hand sanitizer before they continue down the
table.
So I have found a solution…
I pretend to help a young child get their food and at the
same time fill my plate. I TRY to help
the first kid through the line.
Listen up people…we all have our “things” and I have
many…so…I don’t care what you think.
But think about this…
When you go to a birthday party there is usually cake,
everybody sings, and then the birthday baby/toddler/kid/teen/adult/oldster
blows out the candles. If you are lucky
they are very proficient with keeping spit inside their mouth, if you are not
lucky, it’s like a spit sprinkler all over the cake you are going to be eating
in about two minutes.
Little kids and the oldsters are the worst.
You have the little kids blowing for all their worth with
spittle flying everywhere, especially the piece you said has your name on it.
Then you have Great-Grandma who is older than the hills and
when the songs finished and everyone yells “blow them out” Granny looks around,
smiles, purses her lips, and blows with enough strength to blow out
NOTHING!!! And then the adults start
yelling the names of every kid in the room and every kid in the room blows with
all their might and now you have ten different kinds of saliva on the cake.
OMG, what is wrong with you people? Why would you subject
yourself to this?
Hostess: Krista,
would you like a piece of cake? Would
you like the corner it has the most frosting?
Me: Oh, it looks so
yummy!!! But you know what, I’m not much
of a cake person. Thanks, anyway. <it
has the most spit too>
Hostess: Well, we
have ice cream. Would you like some of
that? <takes her finger and runs it down the spoon licks her finger and puts
the spoon in the ice cream carton>
Me: I’m not really an
ice cream girl either. I’m okay.
Hostess: You have to
have something sweet, that’s the best part of birthday parties!
Me: You’re
right. I’m going to ask your husband to
make me another daiquiri and if I have enough daiquiris I might actually have a
piece of cake, but I doubt it, because there isn’t enough daiquiris in the
world to get me to put a piece of cake with your two year olds phlegmy fluids
in my mouth. It’s very nice of you to
offer, though.
Back to my original point of the story…
Yah, I cut the line and will continue to do so until there
are no more children left in the world to give me a cover to hide behind. So, basically, I’ll be in the front every
time or I won’t be eating.
I’m also good for stopping at lemonade and cookie stands and
offering to just give the kids money.
Some of those kids are adamant that I get something for my money, and
then I have to smile, and take the lemonade that has the piece of ice that they
have grabbed out of the cooler next to them with their grubby hand and plopped in
my glass of lemonade. I then wave, drive
around the corner, and dump it out the window.
I’m a big supporter of entrepreneurship, just not Rotavirus (because you
know that kid didn’t wash her hands after she plugged the toilet).
So get out of my way, I have a hungry kid here, and she
really needs some food.
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