I think the hiatus is over. The writer’s strike has ended with an increase in snark and immaturity. (Preface: I have no particular problem with large ladies, I’m just relating the antics here…)
For example, today my bestie, T-bomb, and I were at our favorite local hangout for our bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado sammies (except she ruins it by putting Feta cheese on hers). We’re drinking some vino and laughing and maybe feeling sentimental because we’re here after all to start the packing party (the ex and I just sold the place). And then, out of nowhere, she turns around, and with extreme shock tells me “Shut up! I know that chick over there – in the barf pink shirt!”
I disregarded the whole SHUT UP thing cuz that’s what besties do.
I see pepto-dismal bitch and ask what’s the backstory (I’ve been finding EVERYTHING has a back story…) And she proceeds to tell me that some little piglet had been bullying T-bomb’s gorgeous girl for years and one night, during a school dance where T-bomb was chaperoning, she had the udder misfortune of running into the little piglet and her farm friends. Who were oinking and pointing at her beautiful girl.
Apparently, Farmville isn’t a myth on Facebook. It’s alive and well, and snuffling in the suburbs.
So T-bomb decided enough is enough, the trough was E M P T Y.
Nice teeth, but you smell like shit. Just saying.
She flipped her hair and confronted the little swine. “I’m watching you. Keep this in mind.”
Later, after the dance, T-bomb was feeling pretty proud of herself – no one is gonna mess with my kid! But then, dun-dun-dun! Here comes the little piglet’s mama. She had the nerve to put her pudgy finger in T’s face and snarl “You talked to my daughter?”
T: Um, yeah.
Mean mama: The next time you have something to say, you can say it to me.
T: Well, the next time your daughter tries to bully mine, we’ll have a problem.
Mean mama: *snuffle* Oh yeah? You think I care?
T: You better care.
Mean mama: *glaring* This isn’t over.
T: Yes, it is.
G L A R E
………………
So today, I saw the Mean Mama and I gotta say, I’m afraid. Besides the barf pink t-shirt, she looked friggin scary. I wouldn’t want to tangle with that one.
But I gotta give high props to the T for protecting her girl. Mother’s love knows no limits. Especially when it comes to confronting scary women whose nasty daughters are mean girls. Or little piglets as T puts it.
Boldly Mocking 