No Holdin’ Back

At what point in our development do we actually start giving a shit what other people think about us? I often find myself a little envious of kids and their ability to just say and do whatever they’re feeling without regard for whoever’s around them. They have absolutely no filter whatsoever, so they call it like they see it and do it when they feel it.

Take for example my son at his soccer practice last weekend. The kid clearly had to take a whiz, given that he was squeezing his johnson like a damn water hose; however, he insisted that he didn’t need to go. But after a few more minutes of watching him hop around, my husband finally persuaded him to take a trip to the Port-A-Potty with him. When they were about halfway to the can, my son decided to save himself some time and go ahead and drop trow as he was running. He scurried right along, peter waving in the breeze, while horrified girls in soccer duds watched from a distance. My son, Mr. One Track Mind, was oblivious, though, since he only had his eye on the prize.

Also this past weekend, there was the girl at my daughter’s birthday party who apparently didn’t care for the game we were playing. Rather than keeping her thoughts to herself, she blurted out, “This is soooooo boring.” And I didn’t hear this little phrase out of Negative Nancy’s mouth just one time. Oh no, she made sure she repeated it over and over and over again. I REALLY had to work hard to bite my tongue with that one, but you see, MY mama taught ME to not say anything at all if I can’t say anything nice.

My daughter is particularly skilled at saying anything and everything that’s on her little mind. In the span of just a few hours one day, the girl told me that my teeth were yellow, I had bad breath, and my hair looked like a wild woman’s. Way to make the woman WHO GAVE BIRTH TO YOU feel like a rock star! I know that she doesn’t mean any harm, but I still made sure to brush my teeth, throw on some whitening strips, and run a brush through my hair just in case.

And then there’s the constant public proclamations by BOTH of my kids about what they need to do in the bathroom. We could be in the middle of a ridiculously crowded restaurant or standing in a long-ass line at the grocery store, and neither one of them has even the slightest qualm about screaming out, “I GOTTA POOOOOOOOP!!!!!” It’s beyond awesome to have all eyes on you while your kid’s hand is crammed up his ass crack.

As embarrassing as it might seem at times, though, think about how liberating it would be if, as adults, we could share that same no-holds barred attitude toward society. You hate the sweater your mother-in-law gave you for Christmas? Tell her you wouldn’t use it to clean your toilets! You’re trying to get out of a dinner date with your creepy neighbors? Tell them they are the constant stars of your nightmares! Your husband asks if the sex was good for you even though you accidentally nodded off in the middle of it? Tell him you had a better orgasm at yoga the other day. I’d love to just speak my mind, if only just for a day. Something tells me, though, that I’d find out a whole new LITERAL meaning for the phrase “roll with the punches” if I did….

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Flying Solo

     

     Any time I fly anywhere by myself, I just don’t seem to have the best of luck.  I’m always the person who gets stuck next to the passenger who’s never been introduced to deodorant or the passenger who’s been eating garlic and shit sandwiches for lunch or the passenger who wants to yap away about stupid, meaningless topics for the whole flipping duration of the flight.  So, naturally, when I flew down to see my parents this past weekend, I was once again forced to deal with rather strange characters on a rather small plane.

     When I boarded the teensy tiny “jet” (and I use that term VERY loosely) on Friday, my poor nose was immediately blasted with the putrid smell of what can only be described as cat piss in a bottle. Some dumb ass had actually taken it upon herself to bathe in this God-awful perfume before climbing on board this ridiculously cramped box with wings.  Now, maybe this clueless wonder actually enjoyed this retched scent when she purchased it from the store; however, it’s pretty presumptuous of her to assume that the rest of the free world would also like to inhale air that’s been polluted with this foul odor.  My gag reflux was only enhanced by the sudden increase in temperature on the plane.  It became so hot in there that I actually contemplated stripping down to my skivvies to avoid passing out from heat exhaustion.  Talk about miserable!  The combination of the smell with the intense heat was enough to make anyone feel like barfing.

     And as if this all wasn’t bad enough as it was, we also had the world’s bitchiest flight attendant to ever fly the friendly skies.  Clearly someone had slipped this woman a bad bag of peanuts or something because she was barking orders left and right without the slightest mention of a please or a thank you.  Rather than politely suggesting that I place my coat in the overhead compartment to free up my lap, she instead DEMANDED that I put it up there.  She also rattled off something about having to re-distribute the weight on the plane (which is oh-so-comforting, by the way) and told two people in the back to volunteer to change seats or else she’d FORCE two people to move up.  Again, no please and most certainly no thank you were ever uttered from her lips.  As you can probably imagine, I was so grateful to breathe fresh air and to escape from the Wicked Witch of the West once that plane finally touched the ground.

     However, I again had to deal with another one of nature’s weirdest freaks on the return flight home yesterday afternoon.  The flight attendant was the exact polar opposite of Suzy Sunshine from my Friday flight.  This woman went above and beyond to be nice to each and every person on that rinky-dink plane, so much so that she was almost sickening sweet.  In addition to falling all over herself with kindness, she was also THE epitome of a nasaly-sounding Chicagoan.  I seriously thought she was kidding when she picked up the microphone to start going over safety information.  She dragged out the last syllable of every word that she said and followed every single sentence with, “ummmmm-kaaaaaay?”  I looked around at the other passengers to see if they were hearing the same thing I was.  I thought for sure someone was gonna yell, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” at any moment.  Sadly, though, this was just the way this looney lady actually talked.  My ears were so pissed at me for putting them through that hour-long torture session by the time we arrived back in Chicago, and I’ve been apologizing to them ever since.

     So, I guess I’ve just come to the realization that any time I climb on board an aircraft, I’m more than likely gonna be rubbing elbows with the crazies.  My past experiences have certainly driven home this point to me over and over again.  You can bet your frequent flier miles, though, that I’ll be better prepared the next time I have to fly. I’ll be bringing along plugs for not only my ears but also for my nose.  Best believe that all bases will be covered for a more enjoyable flying experience.  Moral of the story = live and learn.