Ok, so in all fairness, I wrote this on Friday, with every intention of posting it then. Then the flu happened this weekend, and here I am just posting it now. Just pretend with me ok?
Urgh... it's been quite a day. The day started out really good, it really did. I got up early to get some reading done, and felt good about that, especially considering I got two big chapters wiped out before 7 am. I am wearing my adorable Gap Bell Jeans (supposedly their biggest "bell" yet), and a very hip looking purple cardigan and my favorite tribal-looking accessories. It's a really good look today, I must admit. I did try a little harder this morning, as I am going to an authentic Mexican dinner & tequila tasting tonight. And not that there's anyone there I'm dying to impress (there's not, trust me), I'm just excited about the dinner in general. And, adorable S, one of my wonderful part-time roommates, entertained me this morning with her Boondy rap, on the way out the door. Boondy is a fictional character that we've sort of adopted at 4335. If our house had a house band, which we don't yet, but if we did, it would be strictly covers of Flight of the Conchords songs, by the band members, Boondy, Voldie, Mohinder and the Hiphopopotamus. That's our code names. I'm Mohinder. Don't ask. "There ain't no party like my Nana's tea party... heeey, hoooo".
Anyways, all this to say, it started out great. But by the time I got to work, it was rapidly descending downhill, like a California mudslide after fire season. Down, down, down we go.
The craptastic start downhill started at the Eden Prairie Starbucks, at the EPC Mall. Now I should really know better than to go there in the mornings, as the place is usually packed out with the kind of people that annoy me, but alas, I still haven't learned. This annoyance covers the majority of the soccer mom's in there, with their perfectly foiled highlights and their perfectly bleached teeth, and their perfect toned, tautness in their perfect Juicy Couture sweat suits and their perfect Coach bags,and oh barf! But sadly, it even extends to the women behind the counter, who are unparalleled butt kissers to most of their customers. I say most, because it doesn't include me. In their defense, I must hand it to these gals - they know everyone's names and drink orders. But the unctuous way in which they grovel to the customers they are on a first name basis with is nauseating. Do they really know or care about "Chris", in front of me in line enough to be grinning that foolishly as they brown-nose him, and recite his drink order, which they proudly know by heart? Or are they merely vying for a decent tip? Or are they really just so entranced with these cut-rate versions of bourgeois suburbanites, that they treat them like celebrities? Trust me, I worked in a coffee shop/bakery for about a year, and none of us cared that much about the customers that came in regularly that we would grovel and preen them like that. Maybe we were the "Waiting" version of coffee shop staff, but somehow I doubt it.
Anyways, by the time I left there with my Cinnamon Dolce Latte, I was already slightly peeved. But not enough to let it get to me, or ruin my day. Little did I know that all of that was about to change shortly. As I was driving along the perimeter of the mall (while still on the mall premises), this woman, this awful, typical Eden Prairie woman, in her awful, typical Eden Prairie SUV, pulls out of the TCF parking lot, and turns left into the lane next to me, to drive along the perimeter also. Except, that instead of turning left and staying in her own lane, the left one, she immediately, in the turn, continues into the right hand lane, which I'm in, and proceeds to run me off the road, and up the curb, and into the grass, and manages to clip my bumper in the process. All while I'm laying on my horn trying to get her attention so she stays in her own *CENSORED* lane. So, there I am, halfway up the curb (the front half, to be exact), yelling and cursing (yes, I admit), and she keeps on driving. She hit & ran me!!!
OMG was I pissed. Because as I was sitting there, I could see her looking at me in her rearview mirror, and in a brief flash of time, our eyes met. I am convinced that in that moment in time, she knew that I knew that she was going to just keep going, and drive on. And that's what she did. That's exactly what she did. So, what what did I do? Well, I gassed it, and I got off the curb, and I caught up with her of course. And when I got parallel with her, I rolled down my window and motioned her to pull over, and stop. Now, I know my face was probably beet red at this point. Unlike Lady Gaga, I have no Pokerface, none whatsoever. But, I was trying to keep calm, and maintain some composure, because I knew that if I didn't my temper would get the best of me and I'd say something I'd regret and most likely start an argument with this Barbie, and that would only lead to me punching her in the boobie, Ana Farris style (please tell me you've seen the House Bunny, folks!). And I am mad - I mean really mad (have I said that already?), but I was really trying to not let it show in my face. So by the time she finally pulled over and we both exited our cars, and she gave me this blank, vapid look like "What?", I had calmed down enough to tell her nicely "Umm, you hit my car". To which she replied... oh man, get this... "Really?"
Now come on, what is it with these women? These arrogant, entitlement driven women, who drive around the suburbs acting like they own everything, including the road. Honey, you may have paid for your boobs and paid for your nose (or maybe I should clarify, your daddy did), but you haven't paid for the road, and so I still think I deserve my fair space on it. I know this is going to sound bad, and I know just how bad this is going to sound, but I am really so sick and tired of these blondes. (Wait, that's not fair. I'm pretty sure those were bleach foils.) I know it's not fair for me to say that, because I'm classifying a behavior into a larger stereotype. And some of the women I love most or think are hilarious are blondes, like J or L or Ana Farris or Amy. But for the most part, yes, I am tired of them as a whole.
My roommate "R" (for roommate) and I have had this discussion many times, and he's convinced I just don't like any women that aren't brunettes. I told him he's wrong though, I do have a healthy respect for redheads. I think though, that he might be somewhat right. He & I have had the whole Angelina vs.. Jen debate, and I do stick to my guns here, and say that I believe Angelina can do no wrong. I have no valid answer for why Jennifer Anniston just annoys me, but she does. She just does. Yet, intelligent, classy brunettes like Jennifer Connelly or Eva Mendes are ranked as some of my favorite actresses. Looking at my favorite actresses, I can't say that two blonde makes it to the list, though one redhead does. Lucille Ball. But come on, who doesn't love Lucille Ball?
Anyways, all this to say I'm highly prejudicial, but prejudices and stereotypes, in my opinion, need at least some basis for becoming so, and in my case, it's women such as the one who hit me today who feed that fire.
Speaking of fire, and my temper, and brunettes - so this week, before work at the Dunn Bros, one morning, I took, on Facebook, the quiz "Which Shakespearean Character Are You?" and the result was hilarious indeed! Apparently, I'm Cleopatra, temptress off men Roman. Sexpot of the Shakespearean scenes. Yep, me. Hahah! Ok come on, I may be of the superior hair color, but to take it so far as to say "Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety; other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where she most satisfies....", that might be going a bit far.
Yet, upon further pondering, I would have to say that there are some base elements of her character, whether fictional, or historical, that I can relate to. She had a Mediterranean look, so I'll give you that. And supposedly she was very intelligent, and a good reader of human nature, and used that to her advantage. Okay.... She was reported to be manipulative, but that's one characteristic I try to stay away from, as it does strong disservice to my faith and who I want to be as a woman. She was in love with two very rich, powerful men, and held sway over them with great prowess. Ok, maybe not that part so much. But she is called the most complex female role in all of Shakespeare, and not that I'm bragging or anything but I would say I have certain levels of complexity. Kinda. She is frequently vain and histrionic. Ok.. Yes, that I admit to sometimes. And according to the quote "I saw her once, Hop forty paces through the public street, And having lost her breath, she spoke and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And breathless, pour forth breath." she was quite the drama queen with a talent for performance. Have you ever seen me tell a good story, particularly about one of my many first date blunders??
Ok, so all this Cleopatra comparison aside, I guess today I need to take a great big look at who I want to be as a woman. Do I want to emulate women of this world, whether long dead and gone by asp, or still here with us, Stepford examples of rudeness and vanity and inconsideration? Or do I want to pave my own way, be an intelligent and godly influence and sister to S & E, those adorable young women I live with, or Beef, across the street? That takes a lot of hard work and forethought. It means controlling my temper, modeling patience and mercy to people around me, and keeping a joyful heart even amidst querulous attitudes about clipped bumpers and blondes. I may not be rich, or beautiful, and I may not have plays written about me, a legend among women, but who I am, and who I want to be is more than Gap Bell jeans and a Starbucks. I am rich and beautiful in the growth of Christ like character, and the price He paid for my soul. And all the silver SUV's and Shakespearean lines in the world cannot rob me of that. I'm so happy to be proud of who my Christ is making me. It's not blonde, and it's not royal, but I think it's rather good.
