SNEAK ATTACK

I tend to get attacked when I am in a really good mood. At that moment when I am unprepared and most happy, people will no doubt do their best to besmirch my joy. When I am making tacos, they will knock the hamburger meat in the floor. When I am in the shower, they will flush the toilet. After mopping, they will walk across my wet kitchen. And now, when I am at a charity gala, they will try and take my seat.

I’m sitting at our “assigned” table with my friend’s mom (and aunt) happily chatting and eating delicious shrimp when the green dress lady with the white jacket says this, “This is OUR table, AND SOMEBODY’S GETTING UP AND IT’S NOT GOING TO BE ME!”
She pulls one of the other nouveau riche people to the side, and mumbles about; “these” people are at “our company’s table” and “I’m not sitting in the back with the “nobodies.”

This is the worst example of human behavior I’ve seen in ages. She assumed that we were company-less nobodies even though my friend, M, was part of the reason the whole thing could occur.

Up until her arrival it had been the most attractive party I had been too this year. It ties with Sheikos Mardi’s Gras wine tasting a year back. Havanna Nights themed, I couldn’t take my eyes off the mens mambo five suites and the womens wild flamingo dresses and flowers. It reminded me of the MTV awards w/o all the celebs.

She finally stops speaking under her breath and addresses me directly, and says “This is OUR TABLE, and YOU must be in the wrong seat.”
L: “NO, we were assigned this table. If it is only you then perhaps we can scooch in another chair.”
Green: ‘I’m going up front to settle this.”

She leaves and comes back, and the hostess confirms we were seated correctly and that her company was to sit with us. She speaks under her breath for the remainder of the evening. Until I discreetly ask her if she has a problem and then she is left with only hot air and dirty looks.

I mean,this was a party for the Ronald McDonald house. Everyone there either paid good money for their ticket or was a guest of someone who worked tirelessly to be there. Green assumed that we wandered in off the street and should have been sitting at the back.

Appearance and money do not account for manners and decency. Just because you have cash does not make you a good person. It apparently does not account for taste either. I haven’t felt that way since we were on food stamps and my aunt took me to Victorias Secrets to buy a 50-dollar training bra.

I was feeling good because the fortune teller told me that my soon to be significant other had in fact noticed “my legs” and it was only a matter of time before moves were to be made, however disappointingly I would have to “flirt” a bit. She also told me my raise was long overdue and that my mom was proud of me. “Judy” the psychic seemed weary from telling five hundred other fortunes and I wandered if the aura coming off my signature didn’t have left-over auras on it.

I guess I need a conclusion. If you mess with my friends. I will jack you up in the ladies room, biyatch.