So I went all apeshit ninja on a bag of cheetos last night.
I was in distress. I was in torment.
I am on STEROIDS.
So let me back up some. A couple of weeks ago the typical body a la GiGi was a little itchier than usual- to the point of having giant welts that looked like I had cherry-flavored gummy worms stuck to my neck, face, chest, arms, shoulders- you get it. And my throat itched. And breathing was becoming a bit laborious. Now since my body was apparently not having enough fun making me allergic to practically every particle on the planet (except coffee, please God never coffee- you can have my first born and all my books- don’t play with the coffee) it decided I needed…
A MYSTERY ALLERGEN!!!
So the morning after I had one of my I am going to die in my sleep of something completely weird and embarrassing nights, I went to see my dermatologist. I love him because his office is decorated in old apothecary items and he has good magazines. And he knows his shit. I mean he knows his skin shit.
But he didn’t know the cause of this particular derma-problem du jour. He doubted that the new finches, Thurston and Lovie, were the cause of my gummy worm welts or my new inhaler or the boatload of Kiehl’s products I just spent half a paycheck on. He didn’t know, but he knew how to fix it.
And usually part of fixing me is a heavy duty dose of steroids.
Then I turn into hyperGiGi, exponentialGiGi, toomuchGiGi.
“Mom, you have been way too Mom this week. Can you dial down the Mom a bit?”
So the Kid was invited for a fun sleepover with his aunt last night- pizza, movies, boxes of whoppers- I turn a blind eye because I had a free night. We did the Kid switcheroo in the Harris Teeter parking lot in Belle Meade and this is where my trouble really began and forced me to inhale Cheetos like it was the only means to survive.
I was cautiously backing out of my space when I saw and heard two white Mercedes crunch their precious back bumpers into each other like high schoolers at a 70′s dance. Horns honked and I stopped to make sure I wasn’t going to be any part of this mayhem.
I stopped maybe for a few seconds and then a soft manboy yelled at me to move. Apparently I was hindering him and his black Northface jacket and matching black Merrell suede slip ons from getting back to Belle Meade blonde wife in their giant SUV that has probably only off-roaded by driving across the river to East Nashville.
So you probably think I have a chip on my shoulder about Belle Meade people- not so much a chip as a long distasteful history. Once when I was planning a fashion show at the Hillwood Country Club for Dillard’s, the Evil Empire, I had my first encounter with a Belle Meade lady who had dared venture out of 37205 to the dreaded Antioch Dillard’s, a.k.a a branch of the Evil Empire. Someone had the notion it would be brilliant to have curmudgeonly yet genteel old country club ladies do the modeling for the over-priced schlock we peddled.
“Hon, could you please tell me how to get back to West Meade? I have never in my life been to this side of town.”
“Well, why don’t you drive on the same fucking interstate you used to get here you elitest old crab?”
Well, I thought it, but I didn’t say it. I still needed the paycheck from the Evil Empire.
So back to the potential asskicking.
The Northface manboy yelled at me and gestured in bowed, exaggerated pose with his arms spread wide.
“Why don’t you move? Can you hear me say that?”
So with steroids bubbling through every itchy cell in my body I replied,
“Yeah, I heard. Why don’t you just fuck off. Did you hear me say that?”
“Yeah I heard that.” And his face set with pugnacious ugliness and he quickly got to his car.
Crap. Now I started it. He was too weak and soft to have a gun or a knife. Maybe he was going to hit me with an IPad or a steel water bottle.
So I stepped on the gas and hauled-ass out of their before I got my ass kicked in a totally weird way.
I felt a little irritated that I had succumbed to the level of telling someone to fuck off. I mean, I am sure I said that to the FH, but it was probably more like fuck you very much and don’t let the door hit you in the ass. This was an all out, in public, but from the safety of my own car that I let that well-directed nugget fly.
Then I went home and ate cheetos and got a pile of things done around the house because I am on STEROIDS!! But I am going to try to be a little less GiGi and remain devoid of any kind of ass-kicking.
