Friday, August 28, 2009

Secret weapon

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of this blog. I've been documenting all of my angst and parental pride and vacations and various haircuts for you all to see for an entire year. All 3 of you people who actually read this thing.
I meant to post this yesterday, on the actual day, but dag nab it, I was busy. You aren't the only thing in my life you know, just chill and give me some SPACE! Thanks, I'm ok now.

In celebration of this terribly important occasion, I'll tell you a story.


I was in college once. Well twice actually. 3 semesters if we're getting technical. Actually it wasn't college, it was JUNIOR college, but whatev.
This particular story takes place at a time when I was working a full time job. For the same company that I'm currently working, but back then I was single, and my kids were 4 and 1, and I made a lot less money.

-40 hr week job
-single mom
-school 4 nights a week (3 hours each night)
-SINGLE, which means needed a babysitter
-made $12/hr
-my boss was a world class bitch

This is the year I started drinking coffee.

I don't think I need to spell out any further that I was stressed and always in a hurry. I was running a little late for class one night and the parking lot was always a madhouse. Cars were always circling, stalking students to claim their spots before they even made it to their cars. It could take 20 minutes to park.

On this day I was driving my mom's old gray van. I don't remember why. My Camry may have been broken, or out of gas, or some other such tragedy. Anyways, just as I pulled in the driveway I noticed a car starting to back out in the first row. There was also a truck coming around the corner from the second row, no doubt they saw the person leaving from the other side and were coming to claim that spot.

I showed zero hesitation. It was a war zone and it was every man for himself. I was a busy ass kicking mommy and I needed to get to class, so I could get home, so I could get my homework done, so I could get to sleep, so I could get to work, and yeah.
I cut off the truck.
I got the spot.
I knew it was rude.
I knew I was in the wrong.
But in war, you do what you gotta do.

I threw it in park and could see in my sideview mirror that the truck had stopped directly behind me. Two men jumped out. Well, men-boys. Probably 20 years old, ready to beat some respect into the freshman who stole their spot.

I touched up my chapstick, grabbed my purse and hopped down to the ground, ready to do battle.

I was wearing a baby pink skirt, black tank top, my hair up with curly tendrils, very ballerina-ish, and completely not what these men-boys were expecting. They stopped dead in their tracks, mouths open and......

well.... they retreated. Spoke not a word, but turned around, ran back to their truck and drove off.

It may be war, I may be out numbered, but I have boobs, so I win.

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