The children are visiting my family in North Carolina. I will join them in a few days. For now, though, it's just the two of us.
Whenever the children are gone the two of us seem to regress into these people that are totally incapable of doing things like having dinner. We just eat two bowls of cereal a day and watch a lot of television and declare it all good.
So we were hungry and also out of cereal and low on milk so we decided to go for a ride to a nearby city and go to a pizza buffet and eat.
As I've mentioned before, I loathe the general public and most pizza buffets.
Plus? I have PMS.
It's a trifecta y'all. For reals.
We decide to sit in one of the rooms that are generally designated for children. They had football playing, which in my world is much, much worse than cartoons, so I thought it would be okay. I had a headache, didn't want to be there really, and have been having some major fiber issues due to the copious amounts of cereal I have consumed recently. So I wanted everything to be okay despite the obvious handicaps of the situation.
And you know? I was going to blog about how rude people are at buffet lines. And how this one guy stood so close to me while I was trying to get a slice of pepperoni that I LITERALLY ran into him when I turned around because he was STANDING ON MY BACK. I was thinking, "Dude. It's not that good. For real".
And that might have been funny.
But instead here's what really happened.
After we were seated and eating a family came into the same room. The family consisted of a lady who was in her 40's, a girl who looked to be about 16 who was carrying a baby, a young man who was of different ethnicity than the ladies (I say this only to prevent the utter shame he would feel if he were biologically related to these women, not that I care what color he was), a little boy of around eleven or twelve, another little boy who was about seven, and a little girl of about five years old.
The little girl? Beautiful. Darling. Spirited. And wearing a shirt that said "Brat" in glitter.
It was an omen. It had to be.
The little girl, we'll just call her Bratgelina, was running amok throughout the room. Shrieking gleefully about what a wonderful life she was having. Her mom? grandma? guardian or whatever was paying her absolutely no mind.
So whatever, you know? She's a kid. Kids don't always act right. I'm sure my own kids have behaved inappropriately in social situations. Of course, never in front of me because frankly? I brought them in this world and if they acted like that I'd also take them out.
But that's just me.
The little girl threw her pizza crusts on the floor. She poured cheese all over the table. She screamed, loudly, "SHAKE YOUR MONEYMAKER! LOOK AT ME MOMMA! MOMMA, I'M SHAKING MY MONEYMAKER! SHAKING AND SHAKING MY MONEYMAKER! MOM! LOOK! I'M SHARPAY MOM!"
And honestly? I sort of snorted behind my hand when she did that. Because while that is wildly inappropriate and all, it's also kind of funny. I can always seem the humor in the wildly inappropriate. It's sort of my thing. And considering my kids say things like, "IT SAYS PENIS IN THIS BOOK MOM!" I guess that's not so bad is it? I mean, granted, they don't do it in public. Not that I know of anyway. Still. She was a kid. She wasn't REALLY going to jump up and start singing songs from High School Musical 3 or something.
Then the little girl, who was running around her table, decided to come to my table and say to my face,
"YOU ARE FAT! FAT! F-A-T! YOU ARE MUCH FATTER THAN MY MOM!"
Her mom (maybe?) looked over at me.
I said nothing. You know? Because it's not that child's fault that she is so ill- mannered and it's certainly not my place to "school" her, especially since her mother so clearly does not care that she's not turning out at all. If my own child had said something like that they would still be trying to remove my foot from their backside because they had better understand by now that you don't make fun of someone for what they look like or what they have or don't have.
And okay, I'm fatter than her mom. It's not like I woke up this morning and was shocked to discover that I'm not a Supermodel after all. My weight doesn't define me. My hair, maybe. But not my weight. So basically, the child wasn't lying or being inaccurate and how am I going to fault her for that?
So ignoring her seemed like the best option. She left me alone soon enough and went to another table to inform the family there that their baby had a big nose. So I guess I got off easy considering.
Jason was gone from the table when the whole incident went down and when he returned he and I were speaking quietly to one another about how people behave so inappropriately in buffet lines. I said something, I can't even remember what, but I used the word, "stupid".
Bratgelina? Heard me.
And loudly announced to her mom/cokewhore/whatever, "THAT LADY USED A BAD WORD! SHE SAID STUPID!"
I know "stupid" is a bad word in some homes. That's cool with me. We don't say certain things in my house (stop laughing), primarily because certain things are mean. And words can hurt. And I ought to know. Because by God we're the most sarcastic and snarky bunch of people you'll ever meet, but mostly? We aren't mean. Not really.
The mother finally found her ovaries and for the first time decided to comment on the situation.
So she said, looking at me, "Just ignore that lady. Some people don't have ANY MANNERS and are VERY RUDE".
Now, before I tell you the rest of this story, please allow me to say that I'm not proud of how I behaved in this situation. I do, sincerely, try to be the bigger person when things like this happen. This situation included a child and I try not to hold a child's dreadful behavior against them when it's obvious the parent hasn't done his/her job. But, hell, I wasn't in my own city and really? This person is so lucky I didn't react the way I wanted to. Which, in case it isn't obvious, would have landed me in the local jailhouse.
I said, "EXCUSE ME?"
She looked at me. Said nothing.
I said, "Did you just imply to your child that *I* am rude? BITCH, PLEASE".
Yeah. I said it.
About that time the woman's mouth fell open, but alas. It did not deter me.
"Did you notice that your child has insulted everyone in this room and is behaving like a complete tool and disrupting everyone trying to eat a meal? Maybe you should do something about HER AND YOURSELF before you go calling anyone else rude!"
And then I left.
My only regret is that I didn't do my three finger-snaps move at her. Maybe next time.