An open letter to someone who ruined my Friday

Dear Space non-Invader,

I like you . . . sometimes. I like that when i am in store at the register, your cart is not parked up my ass waiting for me to finish. I appreciate the freedom to be able to get back to the ATM and pay and not feel rushed. It warms my heart to know there are people out there who respect personal space. Please don't take what i am about to say next as an insult that infringes on your kind and generous etiquette, but really we need to come to a happy medium.

I was in Starbucks behind you. I can tell how perky and cute you are, even from behind. You waited patiently while the lady at the counter finished ordering her vanilla no fat double soy latte half dry extra hot. You didn't even bat an eye while I grew increasingly annoyed by her abuse of adjectives and disregard for my time. You see, it was Friday and it was time for my reward. After a long hard work week toiling away at a computer, I reward myself with a $4.86 cup of coffee. I do not need it, I simply want it and driving up High Ridge Road is a ritual to get it. For I know my reward is near and it's officially Friday.

But you, Missy. You! You were being your usual space non-invading self waiting patiently, not putting any pressure on Miss Soy whip to step on it and get her shit together and walk away. My problem with you is not that you were being patient and waiting your turn. Bless your little heart. That is actually a welcome pleasantry in this day and and age of grab, swipe and go. But you were standing so far away from Miss Soy Whip that I wasn't even sure you were in line or just hanging around looking blankly at the board. Like I said, a happy medium. There comes a time when some space is too much and you have to close the gap to avoid the cutters or the questions, "are you in line?" Because you know you are in line and you'll just want to sneer at the poor questioning soul and just say, "no, I just enjoy standing here." You are much too sweet for that no matter how much I think their question was totally warranted.

I used to be you. But now I am the anti-you because of what happened last week. Last week, i was in line at marshal's, which any bargain shopper knows is hell on earth no matter how many people they have working the registers. What good is having every cashier on when 99% of them have to stop what they are doing to get a price on something? And, as you know, most of the crap in Marshal's has no price.

Anyway, i was standing there with two pairs of pants that I wanted. It was my second attempt at buying the brown pair. The first time I tried to buy them, the line was too long and I had PMS. Not a good combination. This time I was determined and saw them still being there nearly two weeks later as a sign that they were meant to go home with me. I get in line and some little boy (whose mom was MIA) got in line behind me. I made the fatal mistake of making eye contact with him. He said, "Hi" and I said, "hello." The line moved amazingly slow like it usually does but I was in a good mood so I didn't mind. I had a $1 movie rental in my purse and new pants that looked great on me draped over my arm. I was at a fair distance behind another customer but apparently, not far enough. The boy started inching his way up, looking at the socks that were along side of me. I inched up. Any closer and the lady in front of me would have been buying my clothes. He inched up too, pretending to read the gift cards that were displayed on the register putting him right in front of me but not directly because I was still close behind. I figured once he was done, he would venture back to his place in line. But he did not. I contemplated saying something but the kid didn't look like he was playing with a full deck and I thought how it might look if i got into a fight with a kid who was not mentally all there ifyaknowwhatImean. The womyn in front of me (who he was now behind) made eye contact with him and he said, "Hi." She did not speak English so she just nodded and turned around. So that was his hook. I let him go because it wasn't worth a scene over but if his mom were there, I'd let her have it.

That is why I am not you anymore, Miss space non-invader. So, the next time you feel rushed at a register or feel the sharp, cold metal of a carriage grazing your ass, it's me. And I wouldn't turn around if I were you.

Dr. Horder

Stealing my wedding band

I wore my wedding band on Friday. Okay, so I totally cheated, shoot me. Stew said I shouldn't have it until I successfully make it down the aisle. He says it's my reward for going through with it. I say, "what is my reward for cooking dinner four nights out of the week, cleaning the bathrooms, picking up snotty tissues he leaves laying around and wiping pee of my seat. Not to mention sometimes having to actually put the seat down?" And he smiles, when I ask this and bats his eyes like that's my reward. Whatever skippy, I'm not that easy!

I'm only wearing it because my engagement ring is too lose and when my hands get cold (which every minute of every day) I am afraid it is going to fly off and take someone's eye out. and I am in the in the position (daily) where a hundred lawyers would descend upon the now eye-less person shoving their cards in his/her face. So,i wear my band as a guard of sorts which furthers my case that i need another one to wear behind it where a wedding band normally goes - closest to your heart.

The first couple of days I had such a gift in my presence I stared at it and was reminded that soon I would be married. I did the same with my engagement ring but now with T minus 127 days, the shock of that ring lost its luster. It reminds me that soon I will walk down the aisle in my pretty pretty dress I am unable to breathe to marry this messy boy who slowly but surely scooped up my heart like he was making a mud pie. Granted, i can barely remember to call him my fiancee, but does that matter? It also reminds me that dating life is well behind me and affords me the opportunity to look back on it with some perspective that i should have been using at the time.

i am pleased to report that i have successfully managed to block out all boyfriend except the last couple. This is not because they were so great that i could never forget them, but rather they are the freshest. I was unpleasantly reminded of Jersey Boy this past week when Stew told me my Yankee Candle addiction was teetering on the edge of needing rehab. Considering the case of gaming minis that arrive at our doorstep weekly, I'd say i am able to quit at any time but choose not to. He suggested buying candles from his friend who sells them and with a discount. I immediately boiled because during one of my last trips to Jersey, I spent $21.00 on some fruit punch candle from JB's friend and the following week we broke up. He claimed she was going to send me the candle but she never did. Not that I think Stew is going to break up with me, but it is the association I don't need if he wants to start this marriage off right. I warned him I held grudges and they don't even have to be against the person who fucked up.

Anyway, it got me thinking about Jersey Boy and how insane it was that i dated someone who not only lived in a trailer but had some of the trashiest friends I have ever seen. I used to tell JB all the time that we came from two different worlds, mine being Fairfield County and his being a place where it was okay for your home to have a title. Eventho I think sometimes Stew's friends and I are worlds apart, it's only because I don't take part in their favorite activity - boozing my face off. But all the common things are there like good jobs, the fact we'd rather have nicer things in life rather than a car stereo that could register as an earthquake. And camping is our idea of hell not fun.

I remembered one Jersey outing in particular. We were hanging out in his friend's backyard for something. Al their kids were running loose and one little girl was alone in the pool. She was the outcast child, mainly because she didn't belong to anyone there. It was JB's roommate's daughter and his roommate was MIA as usual and this little girl's stripper mom was MIA as well. The little girl was playing with dolls - a Ken and Barbie. She was making barbie slap Ken and demand money from him berating him that she knew he had it and he should give it to her and buy her things. One of JB's friends looked at her, looked at JB and said, "I see she is learning from her mama." Everyone laughed. Even more. But out of sheer embarrassment for this poor child who was really hell in two pink high-tops.

But looking back.

PHEW!