October 24, 2014
Dearest dough-faced mommy-person standing by your curbside car, allowing two gigglesnort tweens in your charge to flop and stumble around on the sidewalk, flailing hands swinging vanilla ice cream cones: When they halt suddenly in my path and stand there like a dimwit duo-pack, and I say, “Come on, SOMEONE move,” and navigate around them, and you yell, “EXCUSE you? EXCUUUUUSE you?” after me like a harpy, and I inform you they should watch where they’re flinging their ice cream, and you yell, “Oh NO, the ice cream! The ICE CREAM!”, you’re the one setting a terrible example. Gee. Shocking.