I am a piece of work.
By my own admission. Given the chance, I would have my hair down to my ass with a beard to match. Unfortunately work gets in the way. It is rather difficult running a cash register when you have to keep tossing your beard over your shoulder.
And not everyone is understanding when they come across a long hair in their freshly ground hamburger.
Which is another question. After 28 years in retail food, I still don’t know why they call ground beef “hamburger”, or “hamburg”. There is no pork in it. It is only beef.
Whatever.
Driving up to the school the other night to pick up The Princess from her last volleyball game, I whipped the truck into a parking place and sat back to watch the parents. You have the Mom’s with their cutesy cars who are always talking on their phones. You have the Mom’s with their vans who are always staring off into space. And you have the Dad’s with their humungoid vehicles that could be used for world dominiation.
And then you have my faded red 12 year old Toyota with a stereo that is worth more than the truck. Blasting out Linkin Park.
Not many of the parents talk to me.
I think that I like it like that.
Namaste.
May 5th, 2008 at 10:13 am
You know… well said. Not many parents talk to me either when I’m in my “parent” role either…
May 5th, 2008 at 11:05 pm
I think with me it has more to do with I don’t fit that “parent” model. Think that it goes with the tats, the bald head, and the music that is blasting from the toyota.
Namaste.
May 6th, 2008 at 10:55 am
I’m the mom that all the other parents avoid at school and on the sports fields.
I think it has something to do with the piercings and the tats, but my kids tell me it’s because of my attitude.
So I sit in my car, blare my music and play my video games. Works for me.
May 6th, 2008 at 10:21 pm
The music is blaring is a must. The kids have to figure out where to find you some how.’
Thanks for stopping by.
Namaste.