Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I Don't Like You - Come Here!

Last night I holed up in my bedroom to watch The Real Housewives of New Jersey uninterrupted and all I kept thinking about is are these women for real? How hard is it to just stay away from the people you don't like. I guess I just don't hate anyone enough to spend that much energy on them. Of course, I'm also kind of lazy, and this much bickering about one person seems to take a lot of energy. More energy than I'm willing to spend. I choose to save my energy for the finer things in life, like dipping my chips in guacamole while having a glass of wine with my friends.

Is a fashion show (or any event, when you think of it) that important that you simply must show up and duke it out with your mortal enemy? I watched these women full of piss and vinegar (love that saying, by the way!), staring each other down and boring everyone at their respective tables about how much they hated each other. Honestly, there are other things to talk about. Like the oil spill in the gulf. Or how you feel about the latest Supreme Court nomination. Or what Hugh Hefner really looks like under that robe. I watched as one of the women very purposefully sat waiting to pounce on the other one - you don't like her! Just ignore her! But no. She just had to say something. Had to start the drama. Let her walk away. Be the bigger, better person. She doesn't like you. It's okay...

Really, what are you going to do? Chase her down at the local WalMart and verbally attack her as she's checking out her frozen pizza with her daughter? Run her down like a mad woman in the parking lot and pin her against her car with your cart? Screaming and yelling, arms flailing about as people walk by wondering what medication you forgot to take? Because if I was in that situation, and you were screaming at me in public, here's what I'd be thinking:

Holy, Mary, Mother of Jesus - this woman is a lunatic. Truly, a lunatic. I don't think I've ever been this close to a lunatic before. Maybe. Well, our algebra teacher was pretty nutty - but he mostly talked about stars, so he was kind of like a non-dangerous lunatic. But this woman! Woah! Check out how purple she's getting. That can't be normal. Is it raining? Was that rain? Oh gross - that was spittle. That was her spittle hitting my cheek. Her spit is on my cheek. But I can't just wipe it off - she might take the raising of my hand to be an act of aggression and who knows how she'll react to that. Is it safe for her vein to stick out that far? She's going to explode. Seriously. I think her head might actually erupt. Are skull fragments sharp enough to be considered shrapnel? What if I get a piece of skull shrapnel stuck in my eye. Can you imagine going blind from someone's exploding head? There'd be brain matter raining down all over this parking lot. Great. It's going to get on my car. Which means I'm going to have to wash it off right away because you don't want that stuff drying up in the hot sun; probably take the paint right off. Crap. I don't have any cash. The nearest car wash only takes cash. What is with that? It's brand new! Shouldn't they have all the modern conveniences of the world like the little machine that accepts a debit card in exchange for a washed car? I'm going to have to go to the one behind the bank. I hate that one. It's dirty. Last time I was there that creepy bearded man was going through the garbages. But it does take debit cards. You know, that's why kids today don't truly appreciate the value of money. But can you blame them? They never see it. Think it comes from a card. Back in the day, parents would pile their kids in the car on Saturday morning and head on down to the bank to cash their check. My checks have always been direct deposited. I can't remember the last time I was actually inside a bank. But back then kids saw their parents put some money in an account and take some money for bills. Then they were dragged around town while the bills were paid - a little at the phone company, some more at the electric company, and the rest for groceries. You didn't buy what you didn't have money for. My kids don't see that. They think I magically wave the card and we get stuff we like. They're never going to retire debt-free. They better have nice children to live with - because they're not living with me at my nursing home, that's for sure!"

So, the way I see it, life is way too short for you to waste worrying about whether or not my kids will be able to retire debt-free.

(Of course, this does not discourage me from tuning in for the next episode of The Real Housewives of New Jersey when things really heat up and Danielle has a breakdown. I can't wait!)


Brenna said...

I think that debit card bit needs its own post - that's a really great observation (and more deserving of your brainspace than the bored housewives of silconeville. I just can't. Even.)

Anonymous said...

Another good question about Hugh Hefner. Really? A Captain's hat? What up with the hat?
Sara (Wilson) Luke