Anyone who read my last post could probably tell that the Austin heat is really starting to get to me. I mean, I almost never recommend unorthodox usage of Popsicles. Candy canes, yes. Salad tongs, sure. But not Popsicles. I am a lady after all. I do have my standards.
Anyway, in the midst of my 107 degree misery yesterday, there happened to be a rather bright development. Yes, people, let’s all raise a glass because it looks like I now have a new sworn enemy. A new nemesis! A new “Bitch, please,” if you will. And early indicators show that this one may be a very, very worthy opponent indeed. (Unlike my last frenemy who greatly disappointed me by not even letting her dog poop on my lawn last week. It’s like she doesn’t even care.)
But just who is my new foe, you ask? Because surely someone of my caliber must have enemies in downtown law firms, the Texas State Capitol and the plus-size resort wear department at Saks, right? And yes, yes, I do. But even so, I didn’t happen to find my noveau enemy at any of those places this time around. Nope. Not at all. Rather, I found him just standing on the corner playing with a pylon and trying to not get his foot stuck in a storm drain.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you my new nemesis: The Crossing Guard.
(Note: In the interest of me not getting my ass kicked, please know that I am changing all names and identifying characteristics of said crossing guard from here on out.) (Except for the orange vest part because, well, he is a crossing guard.)
Here’s how it all went down:
At 2:30 p.m., I decide to walk the three short blocks to school to pick up the kids. I figure I can handle a few minutes of blistering hot heat, what with all of the water I’m currently retaining, however, as soon as I take 10 miserable steps, I realize the error of my ways. I then sweat like a crabby menopausal pole dancer all the way to the school.
Finally reaching the corner, I notice “Shalimar,” our new 300-lb. Samoan crossing guard who has no front teeth and a hump on his back, standing in the middle of the street with his precious stop sign. He sees me gasping for air while I wait, but even so he ignores me and walks to the other side of the street and waves for a few cars to pass. Two endless minutes later, he finally stops traffic and gestures for me to cross. By this point I’m about ready to collapse , so as I slink by I sweetly say, “Oh, thank goodness! I thought I was going to melt! It’s a hot one today, isn’t it sir?”
However, in all fairness to Shalimar, I suppose it may have sounded a little more like this: “OH, MY GAWD! MY INTESTINES WERE ABOUT TO EXPLODE IF I HAD TO WAIT ON THAT CORNER ANOTHER SECOND! I’M DYYYYIIIINNNNGGG! DYING! BLECH! I TASTE NICKEL.”
I don’t quite remember it all, exactly.
Anyway, about 15 minutes later, I had the kids with me and we patiently waited on the corner with a group of 10 or so other people. This time Shalimar quickly walked into the street and efficiently stopped traffic with his huge Siamese, I mean, Samoan hands, then waved for us all to cross. But then, when I was a mere two feet away from him and his official orange shiny vest, he looked right at me and boomed with a toothless smile, “Thank you all for being so patient, everyone! I hope nobody’s INTESTINES were in danger. Have a good day now!”
Oh, yes. He did. He sure as hell did.
And at that moment, as I wiped the hot sweat out of my eyes and rummaged in my son’s lunch box for a Sponge Bob ice pack to stick down my shorts, I stared Shalimar right in the eye and smiled back.
And I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
_____________________________________________
Also, one of The Mouthy Housewives party sponsors, 8th Continent Soymilk is celebrating the less-than-perfect moments of motherhood and having a Nice Job, Mom contest. Just submit your story, in written or video form (you can even record it right on their Facebook page) and then the adoring public votes for you and viola! You win a fabulous prize. Every month, now through October, you can win a room makeover, and the grand prize is a fabulous trip–somewhere like Costa Rica. Do it!
If Shalimar is this tightly wound now he’s going to be holding kids hostage by Christmas. Perhaps not cut out to be a crossing guard.
At least you smiled back at him…mama always said…kill em with kindness (AFTER the ‘fill em with bullshit’ part). Good job on getting a new nemisis! I’m hoping to find one for my blog, we ALL aspire to be just like you Wendi.
What is it with crossing guards? Ours scolded me this morning because the kids didn’t look both ways before crossing a ONE WAY street where she had already stopped traffic.
It is so on.
Oooh, he sounds like he’ll be a fun nemisis! Can’t wait to hear more. 🙂
Thank God I can unleash my boys….er….drop off my darlings via motorized transport for before and after-care at the school, sponsored by the Y. No crossing guards involved.
Oooh. I like that you’ve found your nemesis. I’m still at war with the world, and that gets to be exhausting and makes me lose focus. When you have a lightning rod to channel your energy, it makes SUCH a difference in your quality of life.
Game on.
Can’t beat a good mortal nemesis story. You go, girl.
Now every time I see our crossing guard, the sweet old man who waves at every car that passes by, all I can think is, “YOU’RE SO LAME.”
Dammit. Thanks a LOT, Wendi.
Nothing like starting the year with a good arch rivalry!
Christ. You go and give a Samoan a stop sign and see what HAPPENS?!
See? Another perk of not being a family that has bus rider privileges.
That’s pretty funny. I make all sort of enemies walking around NYC. People are so damn rude. Sometimes I get the last smile, other times I don’t then spend weeks plotting revenge and thinking what I should have said SIGH.
I totally entered the Nice Job, Mom contest. Thanks for the heads-up.
Oh my cookies (as 2 1/2-year-old grandson Capt. Adorable says)!!! I so am “a crabby menopausal pole dancer” — well, two of those descriptive words describe me, anyway. Thanks for the giggle!
I had the stinging sweat in my eyes too, on D1 of offspring retrieval. It was horrific. We in (a different school district to remain unnamed) were experimenting with a completely inefficient Obama’esque traffic protocol to which all the parents were proclaiming ‘WTF!!! It worked so well last year!’ and the Tweets were also very condemning. But let me say this – our poor district cannot even afford the luxury of a 300+ lb crossing guard. We look forward to more installments of your daily interractions with said keeper of the orange vest. We can only live and learn!
A crossing guard makes for a great nemesis — you know where they’re going to be at least twice a day, which makes planning confrontations that much easier. Plus, they usually only have one hand available because of that stop sign thing they’re always holding.
Then again, they can get you run over by a car, so maybe not so much.
He’s a tricky one. A Moriarty to your Holmes if you will. Best play it careful. There is no telling what lengths he will go to to get one up on you.
I absolutely have decided upon my next career choice. Crabby menopausal pole dancer. I have the first two requirements. Now all I need is a pole and some rhythm. Watch me jiggle, people.
Ice packs in the pants.. not a bad idea!
Oh it’s on. On like Donkey Kong. You should have given him the frowning of a lifetime.
I was going to leave a longer comment but now *my* intestines are in danger. Power of suggestion and all that.
(BTW, our crossing guard never talks to me at all. Sometimes one kick in the shins is all it takes.)
I, for one, am so ready for this to be on with you and the samoan.
Don’t you know that crossing guards,like security guards, are frustrate police wannabees. They yearn for the power that police have. They salivate at the thought of carrying a gun and having a shiny shield, but nooooo. They are stuck with an orange vest as their shield and a stop sign as their gun.
They are angry!
You were both chewing Bubble Yum, weren’t you.
how could he be so callous towards your intestines?
Maybe you should wear your snow cone bra to make a point of how damn hot it is. Maybe then he wouldn’t be mocking the state of your intestines.
And, I thought it was hot in our neck of the woods.
I guess all I can say is be glad you aren’t 300 pounds and have to work as a crossing guard. That is the best revenge.
I’m so happy for you! I know you’ve waited a long time for this. He sounds promising and I look forward to many more underhanded Samoan antics. Especially if they involve crabby menopausal pole dancers.
hahaha….you found your arch nemesis! I hope he lives up to your standard and expectation and a good duel between you both. Is he real a samoan…?
It’s been quite hot in the mornings & monsoon rain in the after/evening here 🙂
Yin & Yang…
It’s a good thing you hid his identity so well with the name Shalimar (which is my mother’s perfume of choice, oddly). I’m sure Texas is bursting at the seams with 300 pound Samoans. Just don’t touch him with any popsicles…anywhere. He’ll like it.
I also have an arch nemesis in our crossing guard. I’m pretty sure he’s ‘moonlighting’ as a crossing guard while his career is pedophilia. This guy looks straight off a mugshot. And not a Glamour Shot mug shot like that of Paris Hilton either. Like a Nick Nolte DUI mug shot.