A few letters to sum up the month I’ve been having so far (and it’s only the middle… yikes). Are you mentioned in them, Reader? Tell me it’s not so!
Dear Clod,
Can I call you Clod? Clod, when you called my cell phone at 4:24am yesterday and woke me from a much-needed slumber, I was annoyed. That you were obviously sure the number reached a fax machine doesn’t make it any less irksome, either.
As I lay there, wide awake, trying to get back to sleep, I could feel tendrils of steam escaping my ears. Sleep is such a hard-won commodity for me, and I guard it zealously. I knew I wasn’t going to get back to sleep, and I didn’t.
However, I should probably thank you for waking me and teaching me that cell phones do not belong in the bedroom, and that it was really my own fault that you were able to disturb me at all. Lesson learned.
Sincerely [hoping I don’t hear from you again],
Jenn, who would not appreciate getting a fax at 4:24 again.
Oh, and then there was Tuesday. Tuesday was FUN. Not.
Dear Short, Bald, Fugly Movie Theatre Nutbar,
When my husband and I were enjoying our matinee showing of Iron Man 2 on Tuesday, and you were constantly slapping your palm loudly on your wife’s thigh, were you even thinking about how that would annoy the rest of the people in the theatre? Probably. It was pretty loud.
So when I called over and politely said “Excuse me, if you don’t mind, would you please stop with the tapping?” and you leaped to your feet, shoved your wife’s legs away from where she had her dirty shoes resting on the seat backs in front of her and came running down the aisle [a brave thing to do in the dark, on a probably butter-slick floor] to stand over us and scream “F*** You, I’m not the kind of man you can yell at!! F*** you and your husband, B****!!” I guess it was an indication that you had more than a few loose screws rolling around in that otherwise-empty, extremely round, bald noggin of yours. That, and that you were clearly off your medication. And probably out on a day pass.
I apologize to my husband for that, and did note that he rolled his eyes as this was taking place, no doubt thinking “Boy I wish she’d learn to keep her mouth shut so I don’t have to waste my time with every low class piece of work that ticks her off. Can’t we just sit here and watch the damn movie in peace?”. (Um… I’m good at reading him, but he also did whisper that very statement to me after it was over.) He was getting ready to do some leaping of his own when you abruptly turned around and stormed back to your seat with your grinning, ever-so-classy, gum chewing wife, who was obviously quite used to and entertained by your behaviour.
I’m sorry, too, that we laughed at you. That wasn’t very nice of us. Could have caused you to go right over the edge, in retrospect, but we couldn’t help it. You’re just so funny!
You should know that I did have a quiet word with a staff member when I visited the loo, and mentioned that there may be some ugliness – and by that I don’t mean your mottled-with-rage face – after the movie was over, and they should be prepared to react accordingly. I wonder how many occasions you’ve had where security had to be called in. I’m guessing quite a few. I was somewhat surprised though, when you walked out, quiet as a lamb, past the cross-armed gentlemen standing at the end of the exit corridor.
Really though, I’m too old for nonsense like this, and it can’t be good for you in your condition. Perhaps we can exchange schedules so we can avoid such an occurrence in the future? Or I guess I could just call and ask the staff in charge of your daily monotony and bathroom breaks how we could plan our days accordingly. Don’t you worry your shiny head about it. I’ll take care of it.
Thanks for your cooperation.
Love and kisses,
Jenn
Of course, there’s no forgetting last Thursday. Yes, I did call and leave my thanks with the public works department in that town, who were happy to hear it and said they’d pass it along. No, J-B, I have not yet had a chat with Chris about what happened. I will do that when I see him next.
Dear Creepy Trio,
What to even say to you. Just thinking back on that single minute that happened on Thursday, I’m filled with anger.
I feel anger that you would target me. I feel anger that you are so arrogant and brainless that you would try to trap an innocent person for your own amusement or gain.
Mostly I feel anger that you made me afraid. I don’t like feeling fear. It damages me psychically and does bad things to my blood pressure. It undermines my sense of power. It pisses me off.
Although I’m quite sure you three crawled out from under the same rock, somewhere and at some point you have or had mothers. How proud they must be of the refuse they raised.
Just remember, boys. What goes around comes around.
Karma? Well, she’s a bitch. You’ll find out.
Signed,
Less Afraid, More Angry
Dear Road Crew Guy,
Thanks. What you did will never be forgotten.
Huge hugs,
Jenn
Sometimes it must seem to you that I go looking for trouble. I assure you that isn’t the case. I have no need to, because apparently trouble has no problem whatsoever in locating me at whim. Oh what I wouldn’t give to have a little less of that sort of excitement in my life!!
My month hasn’t been all that bad though – Main Street sang at a fundraising event this past Saturday that was very well received, and we continue to hear really heart-warming feedback from those in attendance. We also found out that we’ve been hired to sing at a prestigious local Street Festival, which thrilled us in a big way. Even more thrilling was when ShaMoo told us she’d found out that we were among 300 other bands/groups who had auditioned, and only 35 acts made the cut! We were over the moon!
The rest of my week is going to be spent working, and anticipating the next few weeks of increased rehearsals as we gear up for the Street Festival on June 5th. It’s going to be crazy busy, and I can’t wait!
