Lights, Camera, and the wrong definition of ‘extreme emergency’

Working retail for so long has aged and jaded me.  My toleration for the general public is virtually nonexistent.  And, rightfully so.  People are pain in the ass.

Take this past weekend for example.  My daughter had her yearly dance recital.  A staged event to showcase the work each dancer has done throughout the past year.  All attention is supposed to be on them.  Not the fucking bitch changing seats after every number to entertain her two year old that is ‘just so cute’ dancing in the aisle. Or the several people who have no idea what the words – please don’t leave the theater unless it’s an extreme emergency – mean.   There was actually one woman who went on stage after a number.  I’m not privy to the specifics of said situation, but I’m certain the success of the show teetered on her intervention.

I’m sure everyone has been there – the stage mom, the t-ball dad, the perfect couple that insist Johnny is the next ‘big thing’, etc.   They make reality shows about these idiots.  Unfortunately, people watch.

Oh well.   I’m just thankful for this – my writing; this blog, my next project.  By the way, there is a next project.  I just have to get this current project a bit more exposure.  Remember just click that book cover icon.  Then there’s reading, of course.  Neither can be influenced by any one else unless allowed.

So, read on!

P.S.  I raspberried the bitch.  And, to be perfectly honest, her kid really wasn’t that cute.

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