Do I look like a Ma'am?

Last week I got to verbally abuse a barista at my favorite coffee shop.

The little fucker is new, and replaced my favorite guy. This one keeps calling me "ma'am" and it pisses me off. He manages to say it at least 5 times in a 5 minute period. So today I asked him how old he thought I was. "24?" I told him it was a good answer since I'm almost 30. I told him that being called ma'am makes me feel old and then I want to cry and eat chocolate. I dropped a dollar in the jar and told him that if he ever does it again, that I'm going to stop tipping him.

We chatted a little, then he handed me my coffee and did it AGAIN. He immediately caught himself and said it was habit, and he was sorry. I told him that I was going to jump back there and kick his scrawny little punk ass if he didn't watch it.

Then a lady who was about 50 years old walked in, and I asked her "Do you like it when they call you ma'am?" and she said it bugs the crap out of her.

I'm so awesome.

And yes, I know. He spit in my coffee. It tasted great. Like punk bitch.

Diet

I saw a fat lady begging on a street corner today. Her cardboard sign said "Hungry".

You Don't Say

My peanut butter has a warning label that says "Produced in a factory that processes peanuts."

Crap

I'm getting over the stomach flu and decided that I was well enough to venture out into the world and run a few errands. Of course, as soon as I walked into the store, my stomach started rumbling. I convinced Kiddo to walk quickly (yet nonchalantly) to the restroom. I tried to poop like a ninja. I would have been successful, except that Kiddo is two. At the top of his lungs (there is no other tone of voice) he announced "You went poop didn't you? Wow! That's a lot of poop! You pooped a lot, you really did! Good job Mom!"

Engineers

My husband loves playing video games. We had a big fight over him playing them around our son. He insisted that our two-year-old would understand it was just pretend. It quickly became obvious that I was (obviously) right.

Son: MOM! That white truck is a bad guy! Run him off the road! HIT HIS CAR! HIT IT! Don't let him get away!

My husband got the point and stopped playing games when our son is around. However, it has been months and the kid has not forgotten a thing. We frequently have conversations like this:

Son: What's that building?
Me: That's the College of Engineering. That's where you'll go to school if you want to be an engineer. Engineers design new things.
Son: And they have big guns and shoot down the bad guys!

Nuts

Earlier this week my husband told me about the psych ward at the hospital. It turns out that if you drop someone off there, the hospital is required to keep them for at least 72 hours to do a psych evaluation. Today, in the midst of the dirty house and the screaming kid, I remembered the psych ward.

Me: Hey hun, do the people in the psych ward have their own rooms?
Hubby: Yeah.
Me: Do they have air conditioning?
Hubby: Yeah.
Me: Can I bring a book?

Bribes!

You mean I can't even BRIBE you people to post?

Geeze!

It was a...

...TINY PLUNGER!

Seriously. WTF.