For once I wished I was sterile...

Yeah you heard me right...I said sterile, as in cannot procreate and make little Andrews. "Andrew! Good Lord I always took you for such a verile, rambunxious young man!!" you might be saying to yourself, and rest assured I still am...some of you know more than others. But innuendo aside, I was out to lunch today and had not one, but TWO encounters with what I would call hellions...but you might also call them toddlers. Sit back and start gritting your teeth, because listening to this story is akin to listening to Flo Jo scratch her nails across a chalkboard.

This morning, I was hungry. So instead of going out for the breakfast that I missed, I decided that hearty Italian cuisine would have to fill the void in my stomach. So when I rolled up to Olive Garden at 10:59, I was the only one in the parking lot, and subsequently the only patron in the restaurant. I state that I was there before opening hours for one reason alone. I went in expressly to have a 1) fast meal and have a 2) quiet meal. I had just picked up the new Thrice album Vheissu, and was geeked to start reading the liner notes (I know...I'm a tool). Not more than 2 and a half minutes after I had sought refuge from the day in the Italian haven, the gates of Hell opened up right in front of me and out spewed the most ghastly little imp I've ever seen. The imp was about 24" tall, had blonde hair, and had a voicebox that would put Mariah Carey to shame, so loud was his Banshee canticle! I whipped around in my seat hoping to avoid a meeting with the imp (ok it was a toddler) only to see him writhing and flailing about in his helpless mother's arms. Loud piercing screams that would curdle your blood came out of his cerubic mouth, and the face of an angel that beset his countenance was only a facade to hide the demon that lay beneath his exterior. This kid was awful. All 3 other parties in the restaurant at this point just kind of stared at this grown woman who had no control over her own flesh and blood; we all shook our heads in a collective gesture of disdain, and we tried to keep eating amidst the torrent of yelps.

I found myself literally saying, "Man I hate kids"!! In all reality my fury was directed at this deadbeat mom who just sat there and didn't say a thing to her kid! What's he going to do, talk back? Slap him in his face! You're the mom!! I swear the Age of Niceness that we live in has realyl cramped my ability to enjoy a fine meal. Eventually the kid stopped screaming and started eating his kiddie size spaghetti, but the damage had been done. Everyone was pissed, I hated kids (normally I love children more than dogs), and what's worse...my reading was severely disrupted.

That was hellion number one, but hellion number two put him to shame. This hellion came straight from the belly of Old Scratch himself, and to retell the chronicle of my frustration with this hellspawn will have to wait for another blog...I'm off to have a (hopefully) hellion free dinner with my old Roomate!! WOOOO!!!