"No. No. No. No. Nooooo..." I said quietly to myself, hoping the mantra would offer some protection... perhaps by rendering me invisible or causing the bitch to go temporarily blind.
For the most part, I am a pretty social guy. But there are a few people that I just don't want to socialize with. Ever. One such person crossed my path quite unexpectedly as I was heading to the bakery for a donut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles on top...
"Hey Dave!" she squeals.
"Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill meeeee..." I scream in my head.
Alas, no heart attack or drive-by shooting interceded, and I was forced into a conversation about inconsequential crap with somebody I despise. Ordinarily I'd feel bad about it, but she hates me enough to have screwed me over (alas not literally) on a couple occasions, so I don't.
The fun part is that she doesn't know that I know. So I have to play nice in public.
Errrr... unless she reads my blog.
In which case I hope she leaves me a comment letting me know, so that I can stop pretending to be nice in public.
Karma's pendulum of fate swung back in my favor, however, when I got to the bakery and snagged the very last donut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles on top.
Proving that life is okay every once in a while.
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Can’t you leak something to her cleverly, stingingly, but ambiguously? So she can get a nice sharp crack of a reprimand, but your position is still guarded? That would be my temptation, I think, depending on the circumstances. And it might be effective as a permanent bitch repellent (at least this particular bitch).
Mmmm, best donut ever. Love the sprinkle donuts but I’m not picky…I’ll eat chocolate with sprinkles or pink with sprinkles! You could have just called her a flaming cunt, you know ;).
Catherine… I’ve thought about something like that but, if handled wrong, she may not realize she’s been found out, and just think I’m being a total bastard for no reason. Don’t know if it’s worth the trouble. 🙁
Hilly… Doesn’t that only work in ice cream parlors? Ain’t no amount of penicillin can fix that!
“The fun part is that she doesn’t know that I know.”
That’s like the bitch who went through my wallet and doesn’t know that I know. The beauty of my situation is that she reads my blog and I mentioned the incident. She read it and immediately escaped to her parents’ house for refuge.
It’s like that episode of Friends: “They don’t know that we know that they know.”
It’s a beautiful thing.
Maple bars for life! Crap. Now it’s midnight and I want one…
phew, at first I thought I might have taken an ambien and sleepdrove up to wherever it is you live up there. 😉
Put a horse head in her bed.
I don’t enjoy those interactions at all, and unfortunately I have very little patience. I’m an all cards on the table type of girl (makes strip poker a real bitch to play.) So, if I really KNOW that she screwed me over I would probably actually reference the ocassion with a little hint of “leave me alone” thrown in and make my life easier… but then, you never said how much you have to interact with her.
Looking back at my comment, the fact that I’m a loner becomes a little more obvious, eh? I think I must go find my Heathcliff and wander a meadow somewhere.
That’s why I stay anonymous. It let’s me make fun on anybody I want.
Why play nice? If she actually screwed you over, why not call her out on her bs?
Next time just pretend you can’t hear her. Keep walking and if she follows and still tries to talk to you, feign memory loss, or alien abduction or something. She’ll get the clue.
if only people about whom i had written had just left comments on my blog…
I believe “what goes around comes around,” but sometimes it doesn’t come around soon enough…and yet these are the people who we have to put on a smiley face and make nice.
At least you got your donut. 😉
How did she screw you over? ** mmm saucey details **
I’m afraid I’d call her on it too….but things can get iffy if she’s a family member, co-worker, church member, or the slave bitch that cleans your house and toilet. Old fashioned glazed guy here.
It’s Ann Coulter. Isn’t it?
Okay it’s 4 am here in the land of rain and I am at my mum’s ( a small town with no 24hour anything) and now I want a donut… Damn damn damn damn damn…
For someone like that I’d probably mention some bad news that is totally unrelated to them. Such as, “Did you hear that a 5 level hurricane is about to hit Jamaica?” Then, say little else except, “OK, see ya later.” If you do this four or so times in a row with different bad news, they usually aren’t in such a happy mood to run towards you with a “Hey Dave!” Just a thought.
And that’s why I don’t do small talk.
i hate when i have to make nicey nice but the donut would have cheered me too.
And if she does read your blog and say “Was that about ME?!?!?!” will you be all “oh, no honey, that was this other Class-B Witch, oh you know who I’m talking about, I wrote about her before, blahblahblah” Or will you let Bad Monkey do the talking?
did she leave a comment? did she? huh? huh?