Ok, I’m going to come out of the closet here. However, I have a feeling that I’m not the only mean girl out there. You know what though, I don’t even know if I’m truly that mean because some of these things I just think, I don’t necessarily say them. Wait a minute, I do say them, just not to the person’s face. Ok, wait. Yeah, I’m mean.
- Last weekend I took Alivia roller skating. When we got there I saw a middle-aged lady in rollerblades wearing a helmet. Later, I saw her up close, and I realized she was handicapped, so I figured that must be why she was wearing the helmet. But, then I thought “Wait a minute, she’s already handicapped, so what does she need a helmet for?”
- Just now when I typed that, I really wanted to say “ratard” instead of handicapped. You know, like in “The Hangover?” I didn’t say ratard though, because that’s just mean.
- Friday morning is notoriously the hardest spin class of the week. Think Jillian Michaels. This morning there was an empty bike next to me that was already set up, but no one was on it. I kept wondering where the person was, then at 9:31 (class starts at 9:30), this girl comes bouncing in still wearing her coat and boots and is all like “I made it! I made it!” Um, no you didn’t. Class started at 9:30 and you’re dressed for snowmobiling, not spinning. She then starts giggling and talking nonstop to her friend next to her, who had apparently set up her bike (which I personally think is illegal). When she finally started riding, she immediately started groaning and complaining. In between groans, she continued the incessant chatter and giggling. The teacher even called her out on it. It was all I could do not to push her off her bike and say “Get out of here Fatty McGiggles!”
- I bought my husband a Cadbury Egg. But, then I ate it. In the bathroom. While I was hiding from my kids and listening to my iPod. I don’t think that’s mean though. He didn’t even know about the egg, well, until now.
- I laughed at my husband when he said he wanted to get a new car. I’m still laughing.
- A couple weeks ago, a girl at my work had a hickie. For real, a 45 year old woman with a hickie. We had a whole tube of surgi-lube (think KY) that was going to get thrown out because it was expired. I put it in her locker with a note that said “For your husband.” Oh, and we made fun of her for the hickie. I still don’t think that was mean though, she was asking for it by coming to work with a hickie and then trying to cover it up with a Band-Aid.
I feel better now. This is not one of my better posts, and I will probably get hated on for saying ratard. That’s ok though. I really just had to post something so the pianoboobpicture wouldn’t be at the top of my blog anymore. It was making me feel slutty, and I swear that shirt must have gotten lower cut as the night went on. It happens. Oh, and to all the preverts, thanks for the compliments on my boobs.