Oh the shame. I think, or maybe it's residual anger. Took the grandkids to family swim at the health club. It's over at 4:00. At 4:01, the two high spirited little boys were getting out of the pool, laughing and splashing each other and some geezer starts shouting at them from across the room.
Then he starts in on "their parents don't care what they do, they're just little animals, they're not even supposed to be in here, ought not to have any family swim, this is ridiculous" and on and on ad nauseum.
I think it was the "animals" thing that got to me. My grandbabies are of mixed race. My health club is lily white upper crust-ish. Writing this, I'm pretty sure it was the animals remark that set me off. Plus the fact that the old bastard just wouldn't quit. So I turned on him like some kind of foul-mouthed wolverine and let loose. That is
not something I do, but the strangest thing happened when that old fuck wouldn't let up on the little boys: it was if my head suddenly expanded and it actually got physically hot in there, and then bleeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh, right out the mouth, all of that fury, just like that crusty faced wench in The Exorcist.
It was awful and I shouldn't have done it and I have much better control than that 99.999% of the time. He could have been ranting at me and I'd have turned on my heel, given him a shattering look of complete disdain and left him floundering in the pool. And worse, Jackson said to his mother, "
Mama! Grandma Net hollered at that man!" I didn't holler. I was hissing, like a crazed, possessed thing, venomous improprieties like motherfucker and bastard flying off my tongue. Fine role model I am. I have to stop cussing. Have to.
Labels: bad behavior, cussing, old motherfuckers
