How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

Greetings and salutations to all who deem this worthy of your time...

Brought up Oct 4, 2012

@#$%#@!#$%^%$#@#%^%$#@@#$%^%#!!!!!!

Okay, I'm sick. I have a horrendous cold. I feel like if a Mac truck hit me, it wouldn't even register. So bear with me. Don't worry, I'll explain the title in due course.

Last night, I muddled my way to the local Wally World, in desperate search of anything that would knock me on my butt for at least 4 hours. Sleep is the only thing that helps when these things hit me, and I am a light weight. As the BFF commented this weekend," Kandy can get stoned on baby aspirin." Not quite, but pretty close to accurate. Anyway, I'm standing alone in the isle, studying the meds, debating which would serve the purpose, when I hear someone enter the isle. I ignored who ever it was, intent on getting just what I needed. I hear whispers, a chuckle... and then a sound very closely resembling the one an elephant makes. My blood was sluggish with virus, but it suddenly turned red hot. I looked up, and turned my head. Grinning at me is a pair of skinny kids, the boy obviously latino. It's a good thing the little bastard was looking me in the face, because I shot him the bird. And, into my brain leaped a string of obscenities I learned from one of my college room mates. I admit, I am thin skinned when it comes to my weight.

Picture it. Four girls, during finals week of their very first year away from home. Three, not moi, honors students. All four cramming desperately for those tortures of the brain. Cigarette smoke hangs thick in the air, the smell of Mountain Dew mingled in with the stench of terror and sweat socks. Suddenly, a stream of obscenities to make a sailor blush bursts forth from the mouth of one of the most mild mannered creatures on the planet, accented with an algebra book flying through the smoke and hitting a closet door. Okay, it was frozen yogurt time. When ever I think of Susan, I remember that line of words, and still chuckle.

I have sense learned to swear fluently, thanks to the military. I believe that profanity is one of the courses taught in basic training. My husband, former Air Force, has never denied it. Yet, that one line, many words strung together in one phrase, Is still my favorite.

Last night, that kid was very lucky I was sick, therefore slow in thinking. All he got was the finger he didn't see, and my whispering, "Drop dead, asshole," as I grabbed my meds and walked away. Don't screw with me when I am sick, though. I am not responsible for what happens.

Has common courtesy and kindness toward our fellow man gone out the window? Why aren't kids these days taught to treat everyone of color, age or size with a bit of good, old fashioned respect?

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