More Out of Monday with Madeline♥
I’m Madeline – a healthfully humorous, radically ridiculous, momentarily messy broad here to give you a flicker of joy on the (in most cases) worst day of the week.
Monday is like…
…being out of coffee…period.
Do you ever feel like your getting Alzheimer’s about thirty years too early? It’s so embarrassing. You run into an old school mate; start up a light conversation about the weather, her shoes, her dying aunt, whatever. And walking up behind you is your husband who has been meandering along as you scope the clothing stores. You go to introduce him to your old pal and you suddenly realize that you can’t remember her name (or your husband’s name, if it’s really bad). Your face turns a lovely shade of fuchsia; your friend is smiling graciously to see if you can recover from the middle-aged blooper; your done for. Not only that, the blunder has left you tongue-tied and completely unaware that you’ve spilled your mocha Frappichino on your Ugg boots. Good God!
“It’s Jenny,” she says.
Your husband can’t help but notice her double D’s and reaches for her hand. “I’m Bob.”
Your mind is frozen except for the wishful thinking that puts you on an island in the South Pacific somewhere. You look up from your whipped cream basted suede Christmas gift to see her shoot a flirty look at your “BOB.” That Beee-otch-of-a-washed-up-cheer-leader! She always was a back-stabbing whore! No wonder you couldn’t remember her name; she’s a vixen that you swore you’d forget!
Pure revenge fills your heart.
If only you could think straight enough to come up with a curt one-liner. Nothing. Damn.
You look down, fumble with your purse and the bag, and non-chalantly release the 20 oz Starbucks cup. The frothy delight splatters a perfect semi-circle at and on the feet of the Harlot. A little gets on her legs, too.
“Oh, crap!” You exclaim, “I’m so sorry, Jenny!”
Seeing her bounce around and scramble through her purse for a tissue with the desperation of a trapped cougar is revenge enough. “Here, let me help you,” you offer, as you pick up your cup.
“No, I got it.” She looks near tears.
Suit yourself, you think to yourself and slip away to the right. “It was nice to see you again!”
She looks up and waves with a scowl.
The moral: Who needs clever, mean words when you have a drink to spill. Even better, you can continue this behavior through old age…when the dementia is real.
Madeline, you out did yourself! Don’t you feel bad, Madeline? You ask.
Well, maybe a little….no, not so much. I didn’t need the extra calories, anyway.
Madeline’s photo by Gothicjade
