Wednesday, August 22, 2007

pet peeve #1

If there is one thing I cannot stand above everything else, it is disrespectful and "entitled" teenagers who think they are the Shiz-Nit. Ask my sister and my cousins, they will tell you this is very true, as they often hear me complain about their idiot peers and annoying friends. I've earned quite a reputation among their friends as being a witch (and worse), which I think is hilarious.

It's for good reason that I've earned this reputation. I've been known to stand up and shush bratty kids who talk loudly in the movie theater and I've been known to tell others when they are being inappropriate. My favorite, though, was the time I was at Starbucks on a fall night and heard a few 14 year old hoochie mamas, who wearing nothing but tube tops and size 7 mini skirts that they had squeezed their size 11 booties into, complain that they were cold. So I politely told them that if they went home and put some clothes on, that they wouldn't be cold anymore. That was met with a round of "Um, who does she think she is?" and "Aint nothing but a hate-ah".

I just don't get this teenage culture, which is pretty lame because I was just there 6 years ago. But I was never like that. I was a big fat dork and still am. Here's the thing, it doesn't matter what color you paint your Dodge Neon, or how many spoilers you put on it, or if you put Lamborghini doors on it, or what kind of glass shattering/ ear deafening system you put into it. It's ALWAYS going to be a Dodge Neon. You can drive it as fast as you want, but it's never going to be awesome. You thinking you are awesome in it makes you look that much more stupid. I will tell you as much, too. And don't even get me started on that whole emo thing... My poor sister and cousin have tried to explain it to me, at length, and I still don't get it. That's ok, though. Some things are better left to be a mystery to me. Less to stress about, right?

Today we were at the commissary getting groceries and there was a group of teenagers hanging out and running through the aisles. Because you are cool if you hang out at the commissary, in your too tight jeans and Converse with your spiked and studded belt and chains hanging from your pockets. Oh how I wish I was you. As we were walking the aisles, the brats started being stupid and started cussing really loudly. One of them yelled "Shut the F up" (but said the real word) and guess what flew out of my son's mouth? Yeah, that bird don't fly with me.

I promptly turned my cart around, as my son was swearing up a storm and laughing because he thought it was hilarious, and walked over to these mutants. They, of course, blew me off, so I cornered them and proceeded to give them a fun little lecture. The eye rolling was out of control on their part so I broke it down to them: either they apologize to each and every one of the people in ear shot for their vulgar and rude behavior, or I call the military police and file a complaint for disorderly conduct. But someone else must have complained about them because the store manager was soon in our little corner and told them all to leave, which totally ruined my fun.

They left, but not without saying a few more choice words, which my son tried to repeat but I started stuffing his mouth with pretzels and gave him a box of pills to play with so he lost interest in his new vocabulary, thankfully. As I was leaving the store, though, the mutants were hanging out outside. Apparently there is NO other place to hang out here. They didn't dare say a word to me, especially because there was an MP about 50 feet away. But you can bet that I made sure they didn't see which car was mine. One of these days, I'm going to wake up to my house being egged or find that my car has been keyed. I just know it.


Anonymous said...

So yesterday I'm in the eye MD waiting room (for TWO hours) and am, among all the waiters, the one closest to being a teenager, if you get my drift. EXCEPT for the young mother of two boys, about 3 and 5 whom she left in the waiting room while she chose her new chic frames and that only took her about an hour and 15 minutes. So Boy3 and Boy 5 began running around the waiting room, speed and voices escalating until someone noted that they were actually hazardous to the folks on walkers, canes, etc. as well as to those of us who aren't quite there yet. So I got up, put on my first grade teacher face and voice, looked them in the eye and asked, "Would your Mommy want you to be running around and bothering people like this, or would she want you to sit down and be quiet." Their still-good-and-developing eyes got huge as they scrambled back to their chairs, sat dow and made not a peep ... for a while. Do you think behavior intervention is passed on genetically?

Andrea said...

Wow you go girl. That would piss me off big time for a situation like that and Cali picking up on those words. I'm not brave enough to say anything to their face though so I'm thankful for people like you who will! And what kind of losers hang out at the commissary? Maybe its because there is no Wal-Mart in Germany?