just sayin.

ok,
so i am all for spreading the peace,
being zen, letting go,
and all that other good hoopla,
but sometimes i have the biggest urge
to cut through the bullshit of small talk
and just tell it like it is.
*
let me give you an example:
*
i am in the local market at 8pm,
it is way past my dinner time and i am slightly cranky because of it.
my face is free of make-up
(read:nothing hiding that attractive red pimple in the center of my chin)
and i have on a pink beanie to hide the fact
that i have not washed my hair in 3 (maybe 4) days.
i want to be in and out.
wham bam thank you ma’am.
get my grub and GO.
*
then i see HIM.
i know who HE is right away.
he slowly circles me several times, single shopping basket in tow,
a curious-yet-trying-to-be-cool glance on his face
as i pretend not to see him.
*
while i am waiting in line for my rice bowl to be ready,
he sneaks in from behind and goes for the kill.
his face is friendly and certain.
“DAISEY, right?”
*
i sit there for a second,
not prepared for such a weird name slip-up,
and reply,
“ahhhh….try again.”
*
i watch him search my face for answers…
and he starts to struggle, like really hard,
scrunchy eyebrows and squinty eyes hard,
and asks the loaded question-
“so how do i know you?”
*
and i’m all…
you really want me to answer that mister?
you really don’t have a clue as to who i am?
me, cute little fun fabulous me??
seriously?
*
well, let me refresh your memory…
we are from the same hometown,
and you pretended to be my friend when i first moved here.
you asked me to that martini party at your brothers…
going on and on about not eating before hand because it was going to be catered.
i followed your directions
and figured that pre-red bull vodka you gifted me with would be harmless
on my very empty stomach since there was going to be all this fancy food at the fancy party.
(the party that did serve as much as a single tortilla chip.)
*
but i did not complain nor did that not stop me
from thinking i was a rock star
and accepting a large apple martini, and then another,
which gave me the impression that i could successfully
sit on the edge of a tan leather couch without
missing the arm that i thought was under my ass,
which prompted that embarrassing back-flip
into that poor victim in the nice suit and pretty hair.
*
so naturally i did not argue when you said “i think it is time to go,”
but then, shocker!
neither of us could complete a full sentence
let alone get behind the wheel of a car,
and you suggested we save the 50 buck cab ride
by me sleeping in your brothers spare bedroom…
*
which would have been fine if you had not slipped in
about 10 minutes after you said you would “take the couch,”
and i had to politely say, over and over,
“please don’t touch my boobs”
about 3 or 50 times as the entire room spun in little bubbly circles.
*
but don’t sweat it,
because miraculously
the morning did arrive and i thought the worst was over
until yet AGAIN we had to have that
“don’t touch my boobs” talk
which was perfectly cool with you,
and you proved it by
sharing all those wonderful things your buddy
said about me 5 years ago when we broke up.
that really, ugly, immature, early twenties break-up you know about
because we are from the same hometown that contains 41 people
in which we have all kissed as if that is something to be proud of.
*
but you did stop crushing my ego
when i could finally lift my head from the pillow
without wanting to die,
and you said, “let me take you home now sweetie,”
while i shamelessly held my head out the window like a dog
to keep from throwing up…
until that stopped working and you had to pull over
on a busy freeway so i could be a lady and get sick in the
red dress i was wearing the night before on the side of the road.
*
and we did make it somehow….we did.
we finally reached my house,
finally, finally reached my safe haven floating on a cloud,
and the nightmare was almost over until i realized
my one and only house key must have fallen out of my purse
when i did the entire dance rountine to “hit me baby one more time…” 10 hours before.
*
so i problem solved by throwing the screen to the living room window into the bushes
(while you yelled from the car, “are you SURE you don’t want to come over!!?”)
only to find my landlord sitting quietly in the kitchen, installing a new window,
my very surprised landlord, who remained there until 5 o’clock THAT NIGHT.
THAT IS HOW I KNOW YOU dude and at the very least you could know my name is not DAISY.
*
but i didn’t say all that.
instead i smiled and said my correct name,
and you said you did not recognize me with the hat i was wearing
while we did the dance of
how are you?
for about 5 minutes until that got old and we ended it with
“nice to see you again.”
*
maybe i was just hungry
but man oh man i can be such a wuss sometimes.

32 Comments so far
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oh dearie, that’s unbelievable. cranky or not i probably would have kicked him in the balls. naughty, stinky little man.

You my dear, acted like a lady and anyone that is that un-evolved probably wouldn’t even understand had you actually given him the courtesy of an explanation. Can you imagine what history he has with that woman he mistook you for? I shudder to think.

I am so very grateful that I live on the East coast and my uncomfortable encounters are tucked away in LA and SF.

what an annoying twerp.

honestly, mermaid, you’re probably one of the most beautiful things that will ever happen to him…i hope he someday realizes that.

I think you handled it just fine – no muss, no fuss. Sure, being shiny at that particular moment would have surely rocked, but your crankies allowed you the grace required to gently extricate yourself from an otherwise oogie situation. And forcing him to stare at the red pimple serves his stupid ass right. I hope he has nightmares.

Bisous!

Oh, what a story. And so well told.
I’m with you. . .so many times I just want to stop with the bullshit and be honest, fully honest, instead of playing polite games. But so often I don’t.
At least you had grace. I admire that.

xoxo

Oh my gad. That was one hilarious story I have to say – painful as it was for you at the time. I have to say I’m impressed that you knew the whole dance routine to “Hit me baby one more time”. I take a bow to you And yes, he was one hell of an arse hole… here’s to better days!

It’s always the way, I always think of the witty and cutting remark weeks later. Or else I come up with what I think is a witty and cutting remark, and then afterwards realise I’ve just made an utter fool of myself.

girl, that had me laughing!! you are funny, and a great writer! you are writing a book…right?????
new best seller by McCabe Russell….also known as dancing mermaid…or perhaps…daisy!
HA what a jerk of a guy…..
love from your hometown….xoxoxo k

i, like you, bite my tounge in times when i should say it like it is…call someone out when they are an A@#HoLe!
…
there is a time for peaceful loving reactions and a time to just let out your inner bitch!
…
i love you and you look so adorable in that picture!

I agree — beautiful picture, great story.

ughh ~ i hate it when that happens, you are a much nice person than me i think

beautiful photo of beautiful you … xox

how
positively
4th
street . . .

oh my gosh, i cant tell you how many of these stories i have stashed in my closet. and i cant tell you how many times i run into the “HIM” when i am looking like shit. and i cant tell you how many shmucks i have collected along the way…
i love you. and that guy is a dipwad.

Laughing.

Hell, I would have just looked at him blankly and said, “I have no idea who you are.” and moved away with my basket.

But you’re right, you were probably just hungry.

still laughing…..

don’t you sometimes just wanna say it all?

I wonder how many other Daisies He bumps into – and what their stories are!

Your storytelling had me chuckling….I could so relate.

This is hysterical, only because I have been THERE and you saying this is just *perfect*!!! man, oh man, you know how to tell a story girlie girl

i could tell you that i can relate to this story and that my reaction would have been the same. but that’s getting old, right?

xox

omg…i love you.

Boots and dresses and leggings oh my,,
I love your style!

Your story is humorous,rofl…

I only say don’t touch my boobs once and then I go postal… Yep, only once!

you are hilarious! I soooooooooooo wish you had said all of that to mr. jerkhimselfbecausenooneelsewill…
I hate that you had to feel that way at one time and I hate that you had to think about it again seeing mr. jerkhimselfbecausenooneelsewill. sending you a big hug…love you.

Thanks. Reminds me to get better at helping my 4-year-old daughter to say NO! when needed (as in no! don’t touch my tits again). So what would you have said if you had told him like it is?
Nice boots!

i giggled through this whole thing.

i love how you tell a story!

and i have lived this night, more than once…

love you.
xoxo

you guys are cracking me up!
and thank you for saying i am
“nicer than you would be”
but lets not forget i just wrote
this all over the internet for
all the world to see….

I would not call that being a “wuss”
I would call that being a “diplomat.”
I would also call that “Grace Under Fire.”

The opportunity for truth-telling will come, I promise you.

Blessed Be,
VSD

yeah i like what lianne said…
what an ass.

your words are like a breath of fresh air.

sometimes this world needs a little honesty.

I don’t think that you are a wuss in any which, way or form. You were polite and friendly, and quite honestly, I would have cut off the “how are you’s” even before you did! he he

I won’t say unkind things about this guy, except…idiot!

You are awesome! xoxoxo

you made me smile. thank you. i agree with the aformentioned poster stating that you are a lady, a gal with class. cuz i’m not that gal… i would have shanked his ass.

What a jerk!

I like to say that I am always brilliant AFTER the moment, knowing the perfect thing to say, but I guess sometimes it is better to just rise above it.

What a great writer you are! Love your blog and will be back!

Marc

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just sayin.

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