October 24, 2011


What with all the recent dissing of my kid, spouting of anti-Pokemon rhetoric, questioning of our faith, and most recently, griping me out for a parking faux pas, it's all I can do to keep from slapping somebody.         

I think these fools risk these things with me because they don't know about my inner sista.  They assume that, for the sake of politeness and good will towards men, I will be a good little fellow white middle class suburbanite and let rudeness and offense slide without a word.

They obviously haven't heard about the Golden Corral Incident.

I grew up in St. Louis and Dallas.  Both cities are racially mixed.  In elementary school in St. Louis, my white self was actually in the minority.  I had great, sassy friends.  I loved their no-crap-taking attitudes.  So I developed one of my own.   

Then I married Tree Guy and we moved to Oklahoma for a job.  The relative lack of diversity here was a shock.  I try really hard to fit in here.  I learned to bake high fiber muffins.  I recycle.  I arrange play dates.  I buy foods with no trans fats.

But underneath all this affability, there's a chick biting her tongue to keep from going off on folks.  I will say it again: it's a good thing I'm medicated. 

So here's the latest installment in the Let's Piss Danielle Off campaign.  Nature Boy has a friend at church named Hoon.  Hoon and his family invited Nature Boy over for a play date.  When we arrived, several boys were playing basketball in Hoon's driveway, so I pulled our car in front of part of a neighbor's driveway.  (It was a 3-car garage, and I was partially blocking one car.)  Granted, not the best arrangement, but I only needed to be there long enough to let Hoon's mom know that Nature Boy was there.

Of course, at exactly that time, it was necessary for the neighbors to leave in the exact car I was (partially) blocking.  So I ran over to the wife as the husband backed out and around my car, and in my best white middle class suburbanite voice, I say, "Oh!  I am so sorry for parking in front of your driveway!  The boys were playing basketball in my friend's driveway and I only ran in for a minute..."  It fell on deaf ears.  Not only that, but when I apologized to the husband (who looks like the titular character from Weekend at Bernie's), he said, "PARKING IN FRONT OF MY DRIVEWAY!  SO STUPID!!!!!  DAMN!!!"  Then he shook his head in disgust at my stupidity. 

Hoon's mom came out and apologized to her neighbors profusely, again explaining that the boys were in the driveway so I couldn't park at her house.  Bernie mouthed off something to her that I didn't catch and I drove off while she stood staring in confusion at her neighbor's retreating form.  I felt sorry for her.  It wasn't her fault I parked there, thereby incurring the wrath of her neighbors.

A couple hours later I went to pick up Nature Boy from the Han house.  (I parked in their driveway this time!)  As soon as I got in the door, Mrs. Han told me that her neighbor is very angry.  I told her that I gathered that when he yelled at me.  Then she said he's very upset that I just drove away without apologizing.  I told her that I had apologized, to both the husband and the wife, but that neither of them acknowledged the apology. 

And she asked me to go apologize again! 

Hoon and Nature Boy have known each other through church for years, but this is probably only the second or third time I'd talked with Mrs. Han.  I didn't know how to respond to her request that I go apologize again to someone who yelled at me the first time I apologized.  What would you have done?

Even though I really didn't want to, I decided to do what she asked and go re-apologize to Bernie and Co.  The Han family has to live across the street from them, after all, and I didn't want to cause any trouble for them.  They are very quiet and polite and I assume, haven't had trouble with these neighbors before.

Mrs. Han insisted on going with me.  We walked over to Bernie's house and she rang the doorbell.  I followed her to the porch, but she said, "No!  You stand back there!"  And she pointed about 10 feet from the door.  (WTH???)  I already wasn't liking how this apology thing was going.  Mrs. Han kept ringing the doorbell over and over.  No one answered.  I was like, "Oh well, nobody's home!!!"  (Hurray!)  Then Bernie peeked out from his side yard and I again entreated him with my best obsequious rendition of, "I'm so sorry about parking in front of your driveway today--"  Bernie interrupted me to yell, "That's all right, just don't park in my yard again!  I would have towed it away!!!!!"  And he stormed off.  I guess that's Bernie being nice

These kind of things happen all the time.  And I swear I don't go looking for drama.  The best I can figure is that there are just a lot of a$$holes in the world. 

So I think it's time to resurrect an outward manifestation of the inner me.  Maybe this will help.

I say resurrect it because this is actually my second 'fro wig.  (It is my firm belief that every family should have one.)  'Fro wig #1 got a lot of play.  Here's a picture of 6-year-old Nature Boy cooking in it. 

Like mother, like son.


  1. Ok, that is it.
    I'm coming to visit. I'm driving the biggest piece of WV White Trash truck I can find and parking IN his driveway...then we're going to bbq in a oil drum with a biohazard sticker on it.
    You channel your Sista-ness and I'll channel my Hillbilly. It will be epic.

  2. I applaud you for thinking about the Mrs.Han-Bernie & Co. relationship. I don't know if I would have had the unselfish maturity for that in the face of the Freaking Obviousness of the Absurdity of her request. Good for you and Mrs. Han and the World.
    I also know a man with a monster truck tow truck that I could send down to park -- Tow This Mo Fo. (: Mama youknowwhatmama

  3. Brang it, y'all. We'll have a bonfire in the oil drum when the 'possum's done cooking, and we can square dance on the back of the tow truck. Hillybilly/redneck/white trash will work just as well as sistahood.

    Just as long as I get a deep fried Twinkie out of the deal.

  4. Somehow I feel less disappointed with people after thinking of our suck-it Bernie ho-down. (: