Since I Can't Get A Hold of Husband...

...you will hear my b_tch-fest.

Daily I am challenged by a force whom I have come to call God. If I stay at home, I may be hit by something akin to a panic attack, I don't know what you call it, but it's pathetic and includes worrying, anxiety, and the complete inability to get anything useful done.

If I go out, which includes me driving my own automobile, something, I mean SOMEthing always happens, whether I am almost completely rammed into head-on by a Hispanic driver who never even indicated that he noticed my existence or that he was almost responsible for something: my death.(about a week or so ago). Or the absolute vile, hateful, unbelievably cynical and stupid drivers that populate in general in my area (we still vye for #1 Road Rage, it is an utter documentable fact.)

To tonight's unbelievableness, which should have been a nice night out with my mother at the movies. Old-timers to the blog may recollect my various beefs about the public movie viewing experience (which I can now say is so over-rated I'll be buying more and more of my DVD's and watch them at home on the new LCD, where, frankly, people can act right.) Because I can attest whole heartedly THAT PEOPLE CAN'T ACT RIGHT IN PUBLIC PLACES, INCLUDING THE GOOD OL' MOVIE THEATRE.

I'm referring to the time I went to 'Walk the Line' in a croweded theater and had four grown adults do nothing but talk and literally destroy my viewing experience. That's most memorable, besides seeing 'King Kong' in the degraded 'movie cafe' in my 'town' that means drunk person sit in front of me, talk on their cell phone, and drinks so much before the show even starts that idiot actually falls out of your seat on his fool ass. The wrath of Tart is everywhere and you better watch out. If any of this sounds like you, (if you get drunk & loud and get real proud) please kill yourself now, because I'm so tired of it, I'm going to start carrying a bat. Along with my pepper spray and stun gun, that I already own.

So tonight I go to see the 'Rock who's a football player and finds out he has a daughter' movie with the madre at a time when nary a soul is at the movies. Except of course, we sat behind a Mom and her two younger daughters. Well, the person beHIND is usually the problem, usually talking or tapping your seat, so I thought, 'Wow, how refreshing,' we're probably going to have a nice movie experience.

Not so.

The movie's going along, and nothing sucks except the movie (yes, that's my official thumbs whatever, Roger Ebert) and then THE MOM STARTS PLAYING WITH HER CELL PHONE. CAUSING A BRIGHT LIGHT TO LITERALLY BEING SHINED INTO MY FACE.

I tried to actually put my hand way up blocking the light. This goes on for most of the stinking movie, and I finally realize that this bitch is not going to stop. I had to tap her shoulder (which I really was loathe to do) and say something like, "Excuse me, could you shut your cellphone? The light from it keeps getting in my eyes."

Where have we come to? Are people so common, mothers so stupid, no longer wishing to show their young daughters decorum, control, how the f--- not to be rude at the damn movies?

Because the woman put it away, and 20 f'n minutes was playing with it again. I'm serious.

For demographics, for all you wondering, she was a white plump woman, maybe in her 30's or younger, with kids (girls) with her.

People occasionally wonder why I don't have kids. Clearly because God realized I've lost my mind enough, and I for one, don't need further excuse for it. So when these people laugh (con-den-scend-ing-ly) saying I wouldn't understand, cause of this or that, couldn't it just be that they (the muthu?!) are just too stupid to understand?

When I was a kid I thought adults had it together. Yes, during the 70's adults and parents didn't do stupid things or least neeeever let on to me. So, I'm still in a bit of shock that the sad state of white trash that serves as motherhood these days are just children in fat people's bodies without a clue how to just pretend they know what the f- they're doing.

Did you really expect me to understand any kind of need that this poor woman had to play with the damn thing, make phone calls, cause she bored. Did you expect me to simply accept that just because this particular theater did not play the 'Please Turn Your CellPhones Off' statement at this particular time (I turned mine OFF in the parking lot and I am not guiding the 'minds of tomorrow'), that this person never considered the people behind her with her big ol light? And after BEING ASKED BY AN ABSOLUTE STRANGER (which most of us would be EMBarassed by), who used nothing less than what I would call an exasperated and commanding voice to stop it, just kept on doing it anyway.

No, I call that exactly what I described two paragraphs up and if you've got a problem with it please send me your address, because I want to move where you are.

To top off the evening, a veritable driving nightcap, as we waited to merge over into a busy-ass intersection (and you have no concept of busy 'til you've been to my 'town') when the jack-a__ behind me starts honking. I admit, in an inflammatory mode, I put my reverse lights on for a moment. More honking, so I start to go into the merge lane (all against my mother's best wishes) while asshole zips around me, nearly side-swiping me at the same time. (Isn't that just so mean!?) So I'm honking at him and keeping my brights on him in retribution til he moves over to the left lane to get on some other person's tail and spread joy, all of which of raises my blood pressure and make my sight grow dim - that my friend's is called road rage, and an everyday occurance, over and over, around here. All over a useless f-- that will probably die early from going everyday to the same boring, useless job that he hates, just so he can get retirement, for the last three years of his life, as he dies of coronary heart disease (turns out he didn't Really have a heart, after all) or just plain neglect.

That's whut our men die of 'round here, how 'bout yers?