ginger: (Default)
Dear LJ parent friends:

Thank you for not being the kind of people who passively "sh sh" at your twelve year old son when he throws a screaming sobbing temper tantrum in the checkout lane at Target because he wants to buy four Lego sets and only has enough money for three, and you have told him that you will not pay the difference, and then ultimately give in and pay the difference after all, and then walk away allowing him to tell you how much of a jerk you were and how you were an asshole for trying to not let him have the fourth.

WHAT THE HELL.
ginger: (Default)
Dear lady down the row:

It was very kind of you to come apologize for the noise, as I had to snarl down the row at you and your party to be quiet because of incessant chatter several times during the movie. However, you had absolutely no need to apologize for your father's excitement about the horse racing scenes, because I didn't hear a peep out of him - it was your several CHILDREN who were narrating enough of the movie at such a volume as to be distracting and irritating. Please work harder on teaching them movie-going manners.

Also, leaving your half-empty popcorn container tipped over with its contents strewn about the floor and smashed into the seats was a totally douchebag move. All in all, you fail.

No love,
the John Malkovich fan who just wanted to watch the damn movie.
ginger: (Default)
Me: *sits down with french fries and book at a table in the Crossroads food court* *read read snack*
Disembodied Arm: *reaches around me and grabs for my fries*
Me: *bats Disembodied Arm away and turns around to glare at its owner, a 5 year old kid* Excuse me, what are you doing?
Kid: O.O *backs away and sits down*
Me: *turns back to book and fries, read read snack*
Disembodied Arm: *reaches around me and grabs one of my fries this time*
Me: *bats arm away a bit too late, turns around again* That is not okay. You need to go find your parents instead of grabbing food off strangers' plates.
Kid: O.O *goes back to the chair*
Me: *turns back to book and fries, read read WTF*
Disembodied Arm: *reaches around me with a half-eaten french fry, smooshing it into my ketchup*
Me: Okay, that is IT. *turns around* Where are your parents??
Kid: O.O
Lady at the next table: What's going on?
Me: This little boy keeps grabbing at my food, and I have no idea where his parents are.
Lady: Not cool.
Me: Little guy, where are your mom and dad?
Guy behind me: I'm right here.
Me: Your kid keeps grabbing at my plate and getting his hands in my food, even after I told him no.
Guy: Well, he's SPECIAL NEEDS.
Me: ....
Guy: I'll try to keep him out of your food.
Me: ........

That was the end of the food-grabbing, and the lady at the cafe replaced my fries, but seriously, WTF? So ... were you standing right there while I kept telling your special-needs five-year-old to stay out of my plate, or did you just leave him all by himself in a crowded mall food court at noon on a Saturday? And "I'll try to keep him out of your food"? No. Dude, come on. I hate to channel Yoda, but "try" is insufficient, and "he's SPECIAL NEEDS" does not excuse the fact that your unsupervised child was all up in my lunch with his grubby hands. I would think that at least a damn apology is warranted.

Edit: Let me add on here -- my issue was with the guy's response, not the kid. And I gotta say, some of y'all are getting way crankier, in some cases inappropriately, than I might have expected. Heh.
ginger: (swinging)
Dear small child on the bus:
Yes, I have three and a half feet of beautimous awesomeness growing out of my head. NO, YOU DO NOT GET TO TOUCH IT.

Dear mother of small child on the bus:
1. Get your kid a damn napkin, he's covered in peanut butter or something.
2. Please to be teaching him not to grab hold of strangers; someone who isn't me may decide they'd like to keep him someday.
2b. If you can't do that, at least hold onto him so he doesn't wander three rows away to try to grab hold of my braid with STICKY HANDS.
3. For all our collective sakes, I am very glad that I am not one of the crazier members of [livejournal.com profile] longhair who like to shout about how they backhand people who touch their hair without even thinking about it. But they're out there, yo.

Love,
The lady with pretty hair who now has it wound securely on top of her head out of small-child reach.
ginger: (Default)
The kid said she wanted a turkey sandwich. Why do all goddamn EIGHT SEVEN* of you need to cluster around the ordering counter, totally ignoring the sandwich artists asking you what veggies or sauces or cheese you want on YOUR sandwiches to argue with the kid about how no, she must really want a HAM sandwich, when the line is OUT THE DOOR because it's a Subway in the middle of Pill Hill at lunchtime and thus busier than all getout with people who need to get their lunches and get back to work?? What the fuck. Ugh. She's at least six. If she says she wants turkey and white cheese, let her have the damn turkey and white cheese.

*My bad. My guess: two parents, three grandparents, and an ...aunt and uncle, or parent-aged friends maybe. Seven adults, one six-ish year old.
ginger: (dumb)
Dear fuckwitted woman at the counter tonight:

It's bad enough that you were watching slack-jawed as your children bashed on each other with the hand-scanner gun at our spare till, shining it in each other's eyes, shrieking like cats in a blender, and beating the damn thing on the counter.

But for the love of muffins, what the hell is WRONG with you that your response to me saying "Look, kids, that's not a toy, can I have it back please so it doesn't get broken?" and placing the scan gun further out of reach on the counter is to glare at me like I had just sporked their little eyes out and told them I was going to boil them in a stew?

Do you let them treat YOUR stuff like that? I doubt it - so why would you let them do it with someone else's?!

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