by Kati L. Dowling It was warm out today. Real warm. The kind of warm where you think you're getting tan by just sitting in your car.
Nope. You're not. That's just warmth.
This seasonable-everywhere-else weather could only mean one thing to the people of Wisconsin: douche bags unite.
It's incredible to me the kinds of people that come out the minute the temperature hits an above freezing level. And it's not just one or two: they arrive in DROVES of douchiness. Instead of a clown car, it's a douche car where they all cram inside and then all fall outside of on top of each other into a larger than life douchy pile.
I'm sorry. I don't mean to be harsh. I wouldn't be if they weren't in my way preventing me to proceed with my evening as though they hadn't decided to unearth themselves from the depths of the douchy sea.
And what's with these Mother's Day bear baskets I see on the side of every street corner now? Never in all of my long long long life have I seen such a thing. I understand we're in a 'recession' but jesus. The day I buy a basket for my mom next to a bus stop on the corner of 60th and Greenfield is the day I tie my lips together with a paper bow named Sadie. And the bow starts talking as my lips only in the voice of a southern belle.
Beyond the douchidents wearing wife-beaters and raggedy blue-jean shorts with strings that hit the ground like a brides wedding veil, and beyond these odd side-of-76th-street-and-gas-station teddy bear baskets, there is one other majorly evident presence amongst the nice weather: children.
Ooooohhh. I shudder to remember even now (though I type from the safety of my own child-free existence) those greedy little paws outreached, full of flu and germs and candy. Since when do babies try to give strangers candy? Weird.
Don't get me wrong. Children are free and fun and the future of this place we so-called live on. But when it appears they are literally taking over it right now in their not yet developed selves, I can't help but feel a little panicked. What if I report to work on Monday only to find a toddler sitting in my chair telling me that she runs my sales territory now? Then, worse, what if she tries feeding from my breasts? First, they aren't even dairy ready, second, should toddlers really be breast-feeding? UGH THE NECKTIE I'M WEARING RIGHT NOW IS JUST GETTING TIGHTER AND TIGHTER. RESTRAINTS! Glug glug glug.
Sometimes worse than the children scurrying across the pavement like a bunch of ants on their way to a corn dog social are the childrens PARENTS. Again, I love parents. But just because you have a stroller and are babysitting six-hundred kids at once, it does not mean you own me OR the sidewalk on which I want to run down.
Oh summer. Only just begun yet somehow in one big hurry to make me semi-hate you and all your drudgings already.
It's no wonder there was a dead bird on my porch when I came home tonight. I deserved that.
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