I should warn you, tonight’s post will include mud-flinging, bitching, whining and much ire-worthy bellyaching. Because that’s just the way I roll.
We shall start with the aptly named Twat of the Evening. I attended a school concert where one of the trolls performed this evening. Such things are, as any parent reading will testify, a joy from beginning to end. If, of course, by joy you mean achingly wide nightmare of yawningly depressing dances one after the other where your kid — the next Darcy Bussel, naturellement — appears in dance number two, and dance number 23 — of 23.
Go on, take a moment to empathize with me, parents of children in the Holy Land. I know you do.
Sitting through the evening was helped by sitting with friends, and much laughter abounded, possibly at bits that were not intended to be funny.
Finally, after about a millenia, the final dance arrives. The final dance takes eight minutes of my life that I’ll never get back, during only the final two of which do the Trollette’s dainty toes hit the stage. I am, as you can surely imagine, in a state of fevered excitement at a. watching the offspring and b. ending this evening. And then it happens. That moron who thinks they are free to stand up and move around an audience, blocking the view of he-could-give-a-shit-whom, does precisely this — and guess who he blocks?
What message could I possibly send to this unfortunate individual, who clearly recently underwent a lobotomy in order to display such a profound lack of sense, common or otherwise? Are there words more plain than “dude, you’re blocking the view of the 97 other sets of parents all of whose children are on the stage while you do your David Bailey impressions”? Or, as I daintily yelled at him, “sit the heck down!”
[Note: For those of you who have met me, and doubt that I am capable of (or likely to) yell(ing) something with such an abject lack of profanity, please be aware, I yelled in Hebrew.]
My yelling had the desired effect, and then after the final dance, he came back looking for me — to yell back.
Cue three-pointed finger snap and “oh no he DI-N’T!”
Yes, he did.
And now, a word from my soapbox:
Saying “so and so is my friend” does not justify bad behavior on said friend’s part. Neither does it permit self-righteousness and preachy-type behaviour. I appreciate loyalty — but blindness to the faults of another when faced with hard evidence can be irresponsible, foolish and even dangerous. Not to mention pathetic and immature. And particularly — specifically, in fact — in a situation when you are supposed to be acting in authority — shame on you. Enabling is enabling, whether the abuse is mental or physical.
All I can say is this: Karma is, as noted by many other far more worthy than I, a fucking bitch. And god bless her for it.
Here endeth the rant.