I was raised to always use my manners. Yes mam. No mam. Thank you.
I was raised to be appreciative, kind, loving, patient, caring, consoling, good, and faithful. Those are all wonderful and honorable attributes, and I’m happy to be a “nice young lady” 99.8% of the time, but some people……oh, some people make it very difficult to be kind.
I've decided that when I have tight blue curls, wear polyester pants with elastic waist bands and drive an Oldsmobile 88, I am determined to be the meanest old lady on the block.
I’m going to finally do and say all of the things that I’m too kind to do and say now.
I’m going to keep the balls when they fly over my fence. I’m going to tell those prepubescent punks that their boom box is too loud. I’m going to call the police when the neighbors let their grass grow taller than their preschooler. I’m going to put a “No Soliciting” sign on my front door. I’m going to shake my Hurry Cane at kids loitering under the street light. I’m going to be Ouiser from “Steel Magnolias”. That’s exactly who I’m going to be.
When I’m the meanest old lady on the block, I’ll have no qualms about saying ...
*The mere sight of you makes me want to vomit.
*You’re so full of crap that you should’ve been a Port-O-Potty.
*You are so utterly self-absorbed that I cannot bear to listen to you drone on about your ailments and/or accomplishments for more than 3 milliseconds.
*I’d rather take grandparenting advice from Janelle on “Teen Mom”.
*Your clothes are ugly. Like your face.
*Your kids are annoying. Like your husband.
*I’m so glad that diet/regimen/cleanser/computer/app/recipe/bank/book/advice worked for you, but shut up already.
*Spending time with you helps me to understand why people turn to drugs and alcohol.
*Your laugh reminds me of a helium-sucking hyena.
*I fantasize about head-butting you.
*Keep asking me, "Am I right?" and I'm going to answer you in great detail.
*Your house smells like a concoction of cat poop, oregano, and CK One.
*I’d rather eat ketchup on cardboard than have what you’re cooking.
*Leave a message and I’ll call you back after the beep. There is no beep. Go away.
But I won’t say it now. I’ll just continue to smile. I’ll continue to nod.
And I’ll continue to age.
But one day I’ll wake up, and bam! I’ll be Ouiser.
You'll be Ouiser one day, too. What will YOU say?