cell phone

Afterhours at the 1230

Things are never normal at our house.  Nowhere near, actually.  More importantly, things are always funny at our house.

I am trying to do the whole "good mom" thing and keep my daughter focused on school.  To help with this, I limit the time she has her cell phone (when she's at home, heaven forbid something happen and she doesn't have it) and her laptop (yeah, she's a little spoiled).  When 9 pm rolls around, she has to hand them both over.  Last night, she knocked on the bedroom door, as usual, and gave me the laptop and the phone.  I put them down in their usual place and then Lovey came over and picked up her phone.

He was just turning it over in his hands and then he said, "You know what would be funny?"

Any converstaion that starts with those words in our house can be nothing but trouble.  I asked him what he was thinking anyways.  So he proceeds with, "You should take a picture of your butt and put it on her cell phone."

R O F L M F A O!

We went on to discuss how it should be her background and her welcome picture and it would be a perfect birthday present for her in another week or so.  She would have to look at my butt for a long time until she figured out how to change it.  I didn't do it.  Yet.

We are sick individuals.

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A car is not a toy.

Look, I know we're all (or most some a few) adults here and we don't need to be lectured about what to do or not to do while driving.  We heard it when we first started, some of it stuck, some of it didn't.  Fair enough.  But when I learned to drive, the only distraction was the radio.  I wasn't putting on makeup or changing a CD or talking on my cell phone.  I don't long for those days, but I think that some people need them.

Not even an hour ago, I went to pick my daughter up from gymnastics.  On the way back home, we stopped at Publix (grocery store for those who don't have them) for a few items.  All was well.  As we were walking back to the car, my daughter was telling me a story.  Now, living in Miami, nothing ever gets your full attention, not even driving, and I realize this as I'm guilty of it myself.  So, what I'm trying to say is I was only listening to her with one ear.  (And if you have a teenage child, you know you really only need one ear to listen to them as most stories repeat.)  We weren't, as some people do, walking down the middle of the isle.  We were to the right, close to the parked cars.  On the opposite side, there was a Jetta backing out.  To this, I don't pay spectacular attention because the Jetta has plenty of room. 

Apparently, Jettas are now roughly the size of 18 wheelers judging by how far this driver had to back up.  This is not social commentary on said driver's driving skills though.  Well, yes it is.  The Jetta continues to back up, and not at a rate of speed that is suitable in a grocery store parking lot.  You really don't realize how long 3 seconds is until you are about to be hit by a car.  I had my purse and keys in one hand and a twelver of Heiney Light in the other therefore, I wasn't able to produce my initial reaction of slamming my hand into the trunk of her car.  (Yes, it was a woman driver.  Go ahead.  I've heard it all before.)  Instead, I used what I had left.  My big-ass mouth. 

As she continued to back up, I yelled out "Hey!".  Oh how I wish I could've done more.  I am pretty sure, however, that I was vocal enough for her to hear me.  Either that or she had backed out enough for a double-wide to get out.  At any rate, this is when I notice that she was on the friggin telephone.  This only irritated me more.  So I continued to yell at her through her closed windows.

"What the hell are you doing?!?!  Get the hell off the phone!!  You almost hit us!!"

I guess the reaction I was looking for was an apology.  Instead, I think I scared the crap out of Miss I'm-so-much-better-than-everyone-that-I-can-back-out-without-regard-to-any-pedestrians-that-may-happen-to-be-around.  I'm not sure if she was scared because she almost hit us (and I KNOW she heard me) or if it was because I think my eyes were popping out of my head at that very moment and I probably looked ready to kill.  Either way, she was scared and I guess that'll have to be good enough because that's what my daughter and I were.  Scared.

So, the moral of the story here folks is please pay attention when you're in crowded places.  With pedestrians.  Tell your friends.  The life you save could be your own.  No wait, that's blood donors.  But seriously, be careful!

PS.  I go to that Publix all the time Ms. Jetta.  I know your car, your tag and what you look like.  The next time you almost hit someone (especially me or mine), there will be repercussions.  40 acres and a mule!

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