Contrary to what the ramblings of this blog might lead you to believe, I was raised right by my sweet Mama. She was big on manners and we were taught early on how to behave in public. “Be on your Best Behavior!” she would admonish upon departure for some public event. Had more people been raised by my mom, I’d probably have a whole lot less to write about.
So, I guess it’s a good thing that I was a problem pregnancy and she couldn’t have any more after me. Wah-wah. Whatever. I’m still the baby, BITCHES!!!
But I digress. Today I did something that would have caused my mom to develop a case of the vapors. And it was totally inadvertent (it was NOT an “accident”—I loathe the lack of responsibility associated with that word), but probably one of the rudest things EVER.
I had to stop by a local retail establishment to make a quick pick-up (NO, it wasn’t a liquor store). Outside a young woman was in animated conversation on her celly. I silently thanked her for keeping it outside and not bringing it into the small confines of the space.
It should be noted here that while, not technically a fingernail chewer, I do occasionally indulge. Today was one of those days.
So, I’m being the fingernail gourmand. In public. Not good. But wait—it gets worse.
I transact my business and head out the door. As I’m pushing open the door, the nail I’m chewing on gives up the fight. And without thinking, I turn my head to the right . . . oh, it’s too horrible . . . I don’t know if I can . . . But I . . .
A piece of fingernail.
Our eyes met in a shared horror. I tossed off a sorry that sounded more like Simon Cowell than someone who was actually mortified by his actions.
As I scurried off, I heard her say into the phone, “You will NOT believe what just happened . . .”