Pardon Me! Excuse Me!
Sep 7, 2009 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Friendship, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Random, Ranteriffic, Suck It!, The Tarably Wicked Show, bitch
I am pretty sure that uttering one or both of the phrases in the title of this blog really does not require a great deal of effort on ANYONE’S part.
I wrote a blog awhile ago about etiquette. It was a blog specific to parenting and restaurant etiquette, but I am finding that more and more, people lack any kind of etiquette what so ever.
EyeEee:
Tarable, HN and I went thrifting today. Labor Day sales don’t stop at the mall you know, and bitches on a budget have needs too! I used to loathe thrifting. And, really I still do. I love searching for that awesome deal … and leaving the store with baaaaaaags of good shat and not spending my entire paycheck while doing so … but what I am not a fan of is inconsiderate people.
I am prepared for overcrowding. I am prepared to stand in line and possibly have to have a knock down drag out fight with a little old lady over a bag or necklace. I am prepared to park and walk. These are things that you just know before you even leave the house. Some people meditate to prepare.
I just gangster it the fuck out. It is how I roll.
With that said, there are other things that you must know prior to entering your neighborhood Goodwill or Value Village related to the above mentioned expected happenings:
1) It will be overcrowded. Period. Therefore, you need to pay the motherfuck attention. You also need to say “EXCUSE ME!” or “PARDON ME!” when passing with your cart, when behind a bitch with your cart or simply trying to get by. Do not shove past someone. Do not ram your cart into a bitches ankle. Do not think that your big ass over-filled cart is gonna get past mine without first making your presence known to the bitch in front of you. Conversation is not needed. We don’t need to be motherfucking friends after and sing kumbaya around a camp fire about it.
Just be polite. POLITE and CONSIDERATE.
2) Do not hover over sections with your cart. If you are looking for something specific, and I laid my pretty hands on it before you … I am more than willing to negotiate (read: let you buy it off of me for a really motherfucking inflated price) you walking away with it. But, I am going to politely say excuse me and move your cart over if you are trying to block an entire RACK of black slacks so that you are able to find the perfect pair. (ps you are not my size. Next time move 3 sizes up and be realistic. Your delusion is a waste of my time and the fitting room line’s as well.) Furthermore, I WILL fight you and win. So … pick your battles. See those mom-elastic-waste black slacks over there? Yeah. I am not taking those. Maybe you should just put the crisp black Express ones down in my cart and walk away so no one your ass doesn’t get hurt.
3) If you insist on waiting for that lady in the minivan with 5 kids to move out of that spot so that you dont have to walk your lazy ass an extra 25 feet, please avoid making it so that no one can pass you. It is rude to sit in the middle with your blinker on. Fool I know you see that there are 5 cars behind you that have NO PROBLEM PARKING AND WALKING.
4) If you think that you can park your cart in line and then bounce and expect that you can come back acting all nonchalant about it … and no one is gonna say shit … you are fucking nuts. It is rude. It is rude. It is rude. Especially when it is a non emergency situation. Like, so you can go grab more shit and put it in your cart. Rude. Furthermore, if you think it is appropriate for you to cop an attitude about it if someone (Tarable) DOES say something to you … you are nuts. Insane. There aren’t many reasons to beat a bitch up in front of people. THIS is one of the few reasons.
5) Get out of my personal space.
I get that we all have to be somewhat cramped during this mad dash for those crisp Express slacks at 95% off retail price. I SO get it. This does not mean that you need to be breathing your hot fish oil breath down my neck at the register. You are TOO close. If you can hear me say to Tarable that your ass is TOO CLOSE under my breath and have the audacity to fucking ASK ME IF I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU … fishoilbreath and all … you are too close. MOVE. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE.
With that said, if you are unable to mutter an “excuse me” or a “pardon me” … if you ram your cart into people’s ankles instead … then maybe you should stick to online shopping. Because it is people like you that make me want to rip my own arm off and beat the shit out of you with the bloody stump.
Just saying.
It has been a long weekend. Feel free to let a bitch or nine have it if you need to.
What is your favorite dessert?
Chocolate dipped or butterscotch dipped?
(Oh in case you were wondering: I spent $85 total and got 6ish things for Charli, 6ish things for me (including a brand new Anne Taylor crushed velvet jacket), 10-15 things for X and a lamp for my living room.)
Tags: bitch, deal, etiquette, goodwill, labor day, rude, sale, shopping, thrift store, value village
The Many Faces of Xavier
Sep 5, 2009 All Things X, Family, Parenting, Wicked MOMMY Wisdoms, love
Happy Sunday and Labor Day Weekend, friends!
This special weekend edition blog comes to you on the day of my little man’s birth. He turns the big fat 9 years old today.
NINE. Hey-Zeus Creest I feel old.
From conception, this one has been easy-peasy-chicken-greezy. He has always just kinda went with the flow. I would say that he is just like his dad in that sense, and his sister like me with her intensity and diva-like ways. Fitting… right?
Xavier is my little big man. He grew up with me growing up. He watched his dad and all of his uncles go through growing pains themselves … alone and with one another. He has a knack of knowing when to hug his mom just when I need an X hug the most. He manned up when D and I separated, bouncing from my house to D’s … putting up with both of our shit and games and (bigsigh) bullshit when he had no business being a part of it. Nor did he deserve it. But he did it. He smiled big and to be honest, if it weren’t for him and his happiness, D and I would probably not have made it through the rockiest time of our lives.
I love him differently than I do anyone else in this world. I am harder on him than I probably should be. I give him shit as often as possible. I yell too much and hug too little. I expect him to be everything I never was, and forget sometimes to remind him that no matter who he is, I still love him to the ends of the Earth. I think that because we all kind of grew up together … he, D, and me … I just expect him to get it and am reminded often that, just because I grew up … he is still a kid. A good kid. A loving, bright, funny kid with the biggest heart and the most handsome smile.
When I was putting together the slideshow of him growing up, I realized that he has always been the goofy-face-maker. As you can see, he has some sort of face made in all of these pics. I love that about him. (well, except for when I am paying someone to take our pics and he is fucking off with some goofy faces.) I love that he is a comedian … most of the time. I love how smart he is all of the time and smart-assy he is some of the time. He is outgoing. He is confident. He loves clothes and shoes and he is convinced he will be the next Michael Jordan or the next Tony Hawk. Or both. He is sweet. He can write a better rap verse than most grown ass men in the hip hop industry. He gets music and LOVES music. He cares about peoples feelings. He is sensitive and thoughtful. Most importantly, he is the best big brother in the history of big brothers. I couldn’t ask for a better helper.
So this year is the last year of single digits. Next year he will be freaking 10 and I will die of a heart attack thinking about how I birthed a freaking 10 year old. All I see now is his years of puberty ahead of me.
Dear God, What did I get myself into?!?!?!
Enjoy the slides … and of course leave him birthday wishes. He will love to read a blog dedicated to him with his vain behind.
Tags: big brother, birthday, dad, happy birthday, labor day, michael jordan, mommy, nine years old, Parenting, tony hawk, xavier
