So, I just recently bought the book Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies by NFLer and all-around nerd, Chris Kluwe. It’s essentially a collection of ranting essays, and for a first book, it’s really not too bad. Writing a book isn’t easy, and I say this as someone who gave up on writing her own book. I have respect for people who can actually finish one. (As soon as I get this ‘you can’t do it, you loser’ nonsense out of my head, perhaps I’ll get back to writing my own book. However, my self defeat is a very handy excuse for being lazy, so it’s kind of tough to ignore the nasty voices, because that means I may actually have to produce something. It’s confounding.)

The great thing about Sparkleponies is the fact that it’s kind of inspiring me to write again, and that’s worth the $15 I spent on the Kindle edition. Last night I read his chapter entitled “A List” wherein he lists the types of people that he hates. I really liked this chapter not only because he threatened to beat someone’s face in with a ham, but also because I could relate to the vast majority of the people on the list. As could you, I am certain. Take, for example, the Person Who Drives To The Front of the Line And Cuts In because they feel they are far too special to have to wait in line like the rest of us non-helicopter-owning lowlifes. I hate that person. I really, really do. In fact, I had a run in with such a person this weekend.

Y’see, The Cheerleader I’m Now Married To (We ‘stayloped’ on March 29th!) and I decided to take a motorcycle trip down to Anacortes, USA this past weekend so that we could pick up a piece of art that I had purchased on-line. (On a side-note, I also hate the person/people who decides that a $45 shipping charge on a $28 piece of art that would be in transit for 2 hours is appropriate. But I digress.)

So, we hop on the Virago and off we go toward the US border, mindful of the fact that it’s a long weekend, yet hopeful that we left the house early enough to avoid a long lineup through the border. We were very, very wrong. We pulled into a 95-minute lineup, and turned off the engine. No sense wasting gas and polluting the air while idling, right? I hop off the bike and lean up against the highway barrier while The Cheerleader I’m Now Married To leans against the bike, and takes on the task of pushing it 5-10 feet everytime we move up. This lineup is going nowhere fast. It is dead. Dead. Suddenly, some entitled gitwad decides that she isn’t the type of person who (ugh) “waits in line”, and decides to skip the line and cut in right as The Cheerleader I’m Now Married To is pushing the bike 10 feet up the line.  

First of all, you have to be all kinds of selfish to cut in line in front of a hundred or so people, but you have to be all kinds of stupid to cut in line when the line is almost at a standstill. But really, you have to be a special breed of mouthbreather to cut into a standstill line in front of a motorcycle. That people can get off of. And approach your car to chat with you about what you’ve just done.

I politely sauntered up the car and stood in front of it, and simply stared at the woman (and what appeared to be her mother, though I’m really hoping it was her mother-in-law). I politely pointed out the line to her, in case she simply had missed it somehow. She rolled her eyes at me. So, the next time the cars started inching up, I sort of maybe stood in her way so that The Cheerleader I’m Now Married To could skip up ahead of her on the bike to the spot where we were initially. And then she flipped me off.

Really? Did you just… roll your eyes at me, and then give me ‘the bird’? Good christ lady, are you SIXTEEN!? I’m just going to say it, ok: I would never, EVER flip off someone on a motorcycle, especially if I was in the wrong. Jeebus, this lady was phenomenal! So, much to the amusement of the people in the jeep behind us, I simply walked to the driver’s side of the car, and leaned up against the highway barrier, and just looked at her. Just looked. As she inched her car up, I just kept moving up with her. Juuuuust looking.

Now, it really starts to get good because it is starting to get blazing hot outside. She, like everyone else, has her engine turned off, so no AC for her. However, she can’t really roll down her window now, can she? Some angry bitch in a motorcycle helmet is staring at her from 2 feet away. She just keeps looking straight ahead. But the hope-it’s-your-mother-in-law is saying something to Lady Entitlement out the corner of her mouth. Probably something like ‘roll down the window and apologize’, or ‘why the hell did my son marry such a twatwaffle?’, or hopefully, ‘you’re far too much of a bitch to enjoy your inheritance – you’re out of the will!’

I doubt it, but whatever. So, as it was, Princess MeFirst was stuck in line with us for almost 2 hours, feeling awkward and uncomfortable for the bulk of that time. I didn’t really DO anything. I mean, I was just there, in line, like the other 400 people around us. I probably only stared at her for about 3 minutes, but it was enough for me to feel vindicated, and her to feel uncomfortable. That’s all I needed. That and a slurpee, but the stupid Duty Free doesn’t SELL Slurpees. Stupid Duty Free.

Petty? Maybe. Passive-Aggressive? Probably. Would I do something like that again? Yep.

Back to the Sparkleponies… I say pick it up. It’s amusing and enlightening at the same time, and there aren’t a lot of things that one can say that about. Except perhaps a fart in yoga class, but that’s a whole other post altogether.

Happy Wednesday!

xo

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