Holla to myself! Score at the thrift store today. Four pairs of pants and two shirts for $14.00. Each item looks brand new. They are all expensive brands as well. I am pretty sure that when I achieve millionaire status I will continue to shop in a thrifty fashion. I am from Maine. I love a deal. Yessah.
So then, it appears the manners book that comes with cell phone usage has not been opened by some. I don't care if you are in the check out line at Walmart, Wawa, 7-eleven, Advance auto parts or friggin Food Lion. DO NOT...I repeat...DO NOT gab it up via the i-phone waves while I am behind you. It grinds my gears when I am putting my almost purchased stuff on the belt and you stop in your Loui's to go finger pointing in the air with that long ass, fake index finger nail "blah, blah, blah." The flippin' cashier needs your attention...ya know to pay - and I need you to pay ah- friggin- tention. OK, I admit, I am a tad jealous - for I want my nails done too but never seem to be able to find the time to go. But still, seriously. And p.s. You are likely the same person who pissed me off on the road because you were a chattin' it up in your car.
Oh, man. Eeeeeek. Speaking of pissin' people off in cars...if you haven't driven here in Hampton Roads you might not know what I mean, but I'm just sayin' the folks that came up w/ some of the roadway systems around here may or may not have been on acid. Anyhow, the place I speak of is jacked up. There are four lanes on the 'by-pass' they divide two and two and right before they do this there is a ramp that is coming from another highway that merges in but your not supposed to yield. Me and Miranda Lambert were comin' up the ramp, belting it out and suddenly I hear this horn being laid on. Got the... fut the whuck? look on my face and said (out loud).."was that for me?" I soon discovered that yes, yes it was. The ...ahem....grandpa in the champagne colored Jeep Cherokee...(not the champagne colored Jeep GRAND Cherokee that I used to sport around in...might I add) was just a holdin' his whole left arm out the window with middle finger erect. Well, well, well. Apparently he has never had the misfortune or privilege (it varies) of meeting a Greek/Irish, hot tempered, stressed out Goddess (yeah, I went there) from Maine. Mhhhmmm. It came out. The bitch was unleashed. Now, normally I temper myself in the car because I have my kids with me. They weren't there, Miranda and I were talkin' Kerosene and I wasn't about to not respond. Lucky for me, what with the four lanes I had plenty of time. Yup, he got it back. From under my $5.99 Cato shades and him under his bi focals we exchanged the bird. But it wasn't just any bird. Oh no, mine had words that shot out with it. He so proudly had that arm hung out that window for me (and perhaps that is what pissed me off to prompt my response) I had to give the glory back. He looked at me as I went by...I pointed to my purty lil self under that cute black pea coat and said (well really I hollered cause I was pissed) "FUCK ME? FUCK ME? OH HELL NO, FUCK YOUUUUUUU". I know, doing my mom proud, daily. My middle finger was so far pointed at him I thought I might shatter the passenger window in my 'economy' car. Imagine what I could've done had I that manicure I so desperately need. He looked horrified, shocked and amazed all at once and pulled his arm down. Man that felt good. I started to laugh out loud. Now, please know I am reading the book 'The purpose driven life' and am trying to be a good Christian. All of that took place in probably a seven to ten second span. I reacted. Poorly, in my opinion. I kinda shocked myself at my immediate thought after it happened. "What could you have done differently, Angela?" The old Ang would've said "I coulda rammed his ass with my front effin bumpah" but the new, sweeter Ang said " I could've blown him a kiss and prayed that his day go better for him to get so angry at me over my doing nothing wrong". Maybe next time that is just what I'll do.
Reactions can be dangerous.
I told Alan the story when I got home. "Makin' me proud honey, makin' me proud."
You probably don't know this but when Alan was the age I am (29) plus some...OK 38 he became a grandfather. A real life, biological grandfather at thirty friggin' eight. I suppose if I had kids as early as he did I would relate better. And that has been on my mind. We are at completely different places. Why did we not see this prior to marriage? Oh yeah, that whole blinded by love thing.
If you are wondering about Alan becoming a Grandpa at age thirty eight, yes, they are still happily married and have another child. He has two daughters that are married right out of high school and are still with their spouses. That impresses me. Alan and me? Well, we maybe combined with our seven marriage total have stayed together that long. Seriously, those girls may hate me right now (and as much as that saddens me) I respect them for getting it right.
You know, whatever it is.
I am not even sure what I have done wrong. According to their dad (my hubby), I have shown him a love he never knew existed, a life full of adventure he didn't know was around and a flavor he had never before seen. And somehow I am the bad guy. I do miss the fam coming over for Greek pizza, even as dysfunctional as we are. Those that know me best know that hate has never been an intention of mine. Strong willed, suck it up buttercup, drop and give me five, get outta my face maybe, but never hate.
Cheers friends, and do yourselves a favor...don't eat all the kids treats from Halloween.
And by the way, he (hubby) just mentioned what an awesome cook I am too. And he grabbed my ass. Dear Lord, that's not foreplay is it?
