I Did A Bad Bad Thing

First of all, I am sooooo not an aggressive or confrontational person. Yeah, ok, I have a big mouth and go on about gouging people's eyes out with a spoon. Seriously, it's the hormones talking.

And I guess to understand why this might be so surprising you have to know me a bit better. I'm not a "preppy" by anyone's standards but my Mom and sisters do call me "Martha" and are already calling peanut; "mini Martha" Hardee har har! And I guess I look like your everyday garden variety overweight pregnant chick. A few days ago one of my close friends described me -personality wise - as a cross between Bree VanDeCamp from Desperate Housewives and Sandra Bullock. And I honestly think that's a pretty close description.

The past few days we've been pretty socked in along the coast out here by thick, clinging fog. 3 days now, nothing but this crap. You can't even see an 1/8th of a mile in front of you. It gets depressing. Makes me moody. Very moody! So finally tonight I decide I need to get off my ever-expanding bum and get to the store and get some milk and juice and chocolate. I'm in and out of the store in about 15 minutes. One of my BIG pet peeves at the supermarket are the nobs who are too lazy to return their shopping carts to the cart corral/store or wherever they go.

So I'm sitting in my car, getting ready to back out and out of the corner of my eye I see this white trash hoe, who had to be maybe 17 at best, push her cart off to the side and start to walk away. And where does this cart start to come, not at a leisurely pace but more like at the speed of light? Yeah....right towards my car. Before I had time to undo my seatbelt and stop the cart from hitting my car.....CRASH!

It was then that IT happened. I wasn't expecting it.

Super B!tch appeared.

I have known that she was lurking just beneath the surface and I think perhaps Gareth has gotten a glimpse of her peering out from time to time, but she's never made a full-fledged appearance like this.

So I get out and as the cart-hoe is starting to slide her spandex covered bootie into her car, I yell at her;

"I know you aren't thinking of leaving before you come and see what the cart did to my car all because you're too lazy to take the damned cart back to the return area!"

And I start walking towards her. All this time, "Good Auds" is in the background saying; "this really isn't necessary, just step back, get into your car and go back home, this is the hormones talking, now don't go and start something you know you don't want to...."

Super B!tch wasn't having any of that!

So the hoe lights her cigarette and comes walking towards me and says; "what are you going to do about it, so what if the cart, and it's not my cart, it's the stores, made a little dent in your #$&**! yuppie c^nt-mobile"

She gets right in my face...that wasn't what set me off...what set me off was being called the "c" word. Talk about bottom feeders. Being called a "c" by a Jerry Springer Show cast-off just was the epitomy of low. So she moves a little closer and she's maybe an inch away from my face, and we're almost the same height, she was maybe an inch taller, and she says; "like you're going to do anything about it, b!tch"

So I smile as sweetly as I can and tell her politely that she's going to; "step back and get out of my face because your breath stinks, it smells as bad as a 3-day old dirty diaper" then she says; "whachoo gonna do if I don't"....

Ok at this point, I'm still smiling but I'm getting a tad scared. Good Auds is admonishing Super B!tch for getting her into this mess. Super B!tch, not wanting to be smacked down, slides her hand into her pocket book like she's reaching for something and smiles back at the hoe and says;

"Sweetie, you don't really wanna push me and see what I'm going to do about it. I've had a really crappy day, I am pregnant, have a kid who's practicing Taekwandoe (sp) with my bladder, my Rob Zombie CD has a scratch in it, my silver tea set at home is tarnishing due to all this humdity and I've got more hormones coursing through my body right now than you have zits, now again, I ask you, do you really want to see what I'm going to do about, because dollface, I can personally assure you, you'll find out and you won't like it"

I took a breath and went on, still smiling as sweetly as I could.....

"Now, here's what you're going to do. You're going to walk over to the front of my car and take a good look at it and hope and pray that there isn't a dent in it, and then if all is well, you're going to walk back to your car and keep your nasty mouth shut and then you're going to go home and take a bath because you smell bad! You stink! You smell like you've not seen a bath or clean clothes in the better part of a week!"

Thank Goodness there wasn't a dent in my car, not even so much as a mark. The hoe looked at me and said; "yeah, whatever" and started walking back to her car and about halfway between my car and hers she leans over and spits. Wow, how attractive! NOT!

I was shaking so bad that I almost couldn't get my car into gear and out of the parking lot. My poor little cholesterol laden heart was beating so fast I thought for sure I was going to go into cardiac arrest. No sooner had I gotten out of the parking lot did I have to pull over and throw up. I leaned over and gagged and dry heaved for about 20 minutes and started to cry. Dunno why. Just did.

Honest to God, I've never done anything like that before, I was just so angry and outraged at the sheer laziness, carelessness and audacity of someone. Oh and the cheek on that girl! Calling me a "c" was the last straw.

And I'm really glad it didn't escalate because all I had in my pocketbook to defend myself with was a travel size bottle of KMS hairspray.

But there's another side to this. One that is rather concerning.

Now that I'm back home and have calmed down a wee bit, I don't so much feel as if my hearts' about to come out my mouth anymore and I've managed to keep a bit of Coke down along with some really nice peppermint tea, I still can't believe I grew some serious nads and was as confrontational as I was. Any other time I probably would have come home and swore up a blue streak and made imaginery voodoo dolls (yeah I know, that's just asking for heap-big bad karma) in spadex.....

But I am a bit worried that Super B!tch is going to just pop out at any ole time...or I might be tempted to let her take over again.

What if I'm at the hair salon and my stylist does something bad....something that's "not a good thing".....what if SB pops out then? What is she gonna do, wave a pair of clippers in the stylists face and threaten her with them?

Or.....we could be eating out and lets just say I get a bad meal and on top of that, bad service. That's the kind of situation SB probably couldn't but help take advantage of. I can just see her threaten the waiter with some cutlery.

Worse yet......*shudder* what if she decides to pop out during *gasp* sex! OMG, all the Viagra in the world could never persuade my darling Gareth to perform ever again. SB showing up during sex is a bad thing.....a very very bad thing!

I think I'd better make sure I don't have any whips or black leather just laying around the house before Gareth gets back from the UK.