To the 70-year old man whom I have never met who gave me the once- over after Church today and asked me in a befuddled voice: "What is that? Is that American?"... I say, “Yes, we’re all signed up to substitute for the circus and have to be prepared to go at any given moment. Oh, and we have more stores there than you have maple leaves.”
To my unnamed family member who scoffed when I declared that I possess the virtue of acceptance (it was a game, I wouldn’t just shout that out of nowhere) (okay, maybe I did) and then shot a chicken wing out of her nose and onto my dining room table, I say, “You married my brother who is just like me but with the boy parts, Sara.” Oh shit. I wasn’t going to say her name. Sorry.
To the crazy imbecile who decided to market the “charming tradition” of Elf on A Shelf, I say, "Family tradition my ass. $39 for a book and a tiny, stuffed, creepy looking little dude? You're a genius--this must be at least $37.90 in profit. My youngest talks to the freak all day long and has been shockingly well behaved. So well behaved for a stuffed 5 cent figurine someone constructed in China that I'm starting to think of marketing a January - November elf (can I have the name of your sweatshop?) But I'll have to make up a sappy family tradition story, like you did, to convince people that this is not a 'how to purchase a well-behaved child' gimmick, but rather a 'how to make me a millionaire' one."
And finally, to the gentleman who wagged his finger at me in the grocery store parking lot, I say... "Maybe I was cutting through the parking lanes, just a little bit, oh-so-slightly, but it was not affecting you one little bit. In fact, my slight error was no more offensive to others in the lot than your ugly head was to look at. Wagging a finger at someone is as bad as flipping them off or flashing them your ugly junk. And I'm going to send you a bill for my therapy session this week since you forced me to recall horrible events from my childhood. So please send me your address."
See Sara? I'm accepting as hell.
And since the one or two of you who read this probably want to know what I was wearing at Church this morning, it was my favorite patterned tights. Yes, they may look like they belong on a 4-year old, but I love them. And they have a lot of pink in them. There.