Why Would You Say That?

It’s Thursday, but no monkey bashing unless it’s inadvertent later in this post. *fingers crossed*

In addition to being an accidental hugger, sometimes I say things and then scream in my head, Why would you say that?  SCREAM.  Anyone that knows me knows that I have no filter, and I don’t always think things through as evidenced in this post HERE when I told my friend you could cook her baby like a Christmas ham.  You can never take that back.

And I obviously haven’t learned from that incident because at Target the other night, this happened.

Cashier:  Hello, ma’am, can I please see your ID so you can buy this store brand of Mucinex? (I’m paraphrasing so you get the point.  She actually just grunted something unintelligible and I looked at the alert that said I needed to show ID.)

Me:  Here you go.  I’m not making meth or anything.

Cashier:  (laughing)  Why would you say that?

Me:  I have no idea.

The whole idea of me trying to buy one little package of Mucinex and getting ID’d makes no sense to me.  Did they see me on Breaking Bad or something?  Are they putting me in a file just in case my address comes up with a meth bust?  And really, how much can I make with one small package of store brand Mucinex?  And as long as we’re talking about TV shows where the main character makes their money selling drugs, I’d be more of a Weeds character because less stuff blows up.  Just sayin’.

Then there was yesterday when I asked rhymes with Schmawn Schmooke if he wanted to come over.  Of course he didn’t want to come over.  The minute the words were out of my mouth, I screamed in my head, Why would you say that?  SCREAMED.  And he said, No, I do not want to come over.  Notice the use of a non-contraction as if emphasizing NOT

But the worst Why would you say that? moment came on Monday when I got a call from the city saying that Tenderheart’s volleyball team wouldn’t have a team if they couldn’t get a coach.  In a moment of weakness and pure stupidity, I called the monkey to see if he wanted to torture 11-year-olds be their coach.  Huh?  Why would I do that?  What’s wrong with me?  He’s already told Tenderheart three times not to expect any special treatment.  Hey, it’s a rec league, calm down.  Worst.Idea.Ever.  He made me cry during recreational bowling and I’m a grown-ass adult, what’s he going to do to 11-year-old little girls trying to play volleyball?  Not all of them were on the district winning volleyball team like Tenderheart.  Okay, it was the C team and she played about five minutes per match, but that girl’s got skillz (or can hit the ball sometimes).

So if anything, I’ve got some really good blog material coming in the next few weeks.  Stay tuned.

Hey look, even in a post about what a moron I am, I can still bash the monkey.  Speaking of skillz….


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