Sunday, February 4, 2007

Don't ask me to explain a first down, though

About Rude Workout Lady, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks of a good comeback hours later. My normal MO, when confronted with rudeness, is to stare disbelievingly, open and close my mouth repeatedly like a giant guppy, mumble something, and walk away fuming. If I'm pushed past a certain point, however, the words just fly out without my brain even engaging--or so it seems. Sometimes that works in my favor, but more often, I wind up saying things I regret.
After I got home, I thought of a lot more I would have liked to say, but I said enough to stand up for myself without resorting to her level of rudeness, I think. Stephanie mentioned reporting her to the manager, and that did cross my mind. The manager's probably gotten similar complaints about this woman--or maybe not. I doubt any apology from her would be sincere, though, and I suspect she isn't going to be saying anything to me in the near future, much less making rude comments. So I don't know . . . should I complain?

I heard a few rumors that a big game of some kind is being played today. Is that right? Heh. Sorry, just pulling your leg, football fans. Y'all get so rabid about the Super Bowl that I can't resist teasing you. Actually, I had forgotten about it until yesterday. Kevin and I had to go to the store to pick up dog food, and the place was jammed. I've never seen lines that long there! Then it dawned on me, as I looked at the contents of people's carts: chips, beer, dip, more beer, chicken wings, oh, and beer. I noticed, too, that not one carton of eggs could be found in the store. Apparently, the entire state of Indiana is making deviled eggs.
My friend Lynn called yesterday, so excited she could barely speak. She's a HUGE Colts fan and is going to a Super Bowl party decked out in a blue tinsel wig, a Colts jersey, and a hat with a horse perched on top. Yeah, I'm not sure why we're friends, either. What cracked me up is the way she kept referring to the Colts as "we," as in "We're going to crush the Bears!" On the other hand, if Lynn were in Miami, I could see her leaping onto the field and giving Peyton Manning some tips. Gah, I can't believe I know the name of the Colts quarterback! I guess I'd have had to be in a coma for the past month not to have some football knowledge seep into my consciousness.
Last night, customers kept asking Kevin if he had to work today. When he said yes, they were aghast and expressed the kind of sympathy usually reserved for a death in the family. He's not much of a sports fan--and I'm deeply grateful he's not--but he reassured them that TVs would be set up in the store, and the other employees had planned to bring in snacks. "Oh, thank God," they breathed in relief. Kevin said he was afraid if he told them he'd miss the game, they would have burst into tears or stormed the manager's office, demanding she provide a TV for employees.
There's not much point in W@lgreen's being open tonight, however. I can't imagine many customers coming in. By 6:00, the town is going to be completely deserted, with tumbleweeds blowing down the middle of Main Street and the faint sounds of people crunching chips and munching on deviled eggs echoing through the cold, still air. Well, I'll watch the half-time show at least, in case there's a wardrobe malfunction or Nelly (Nellie? whatever) grabbing his crotch while he sings to amuse me. The Super Bowl has something to entertain everyone, right?