The "Keep Austin Weird" Moment That Totally Backfired...

I love Austin, and I love my neighborhood. I have lived here for six and half years (double the length I’ve lived anywhere else) and I have absolutely no desire to move anywhere else. I love living central where I can walk to the original Whole Foods, Book People (the greatest bookstore ever), and the Town Lake (excuse me, Lady Bird Lake) Hike and Bike Trail. All the downtown bars and restaurants are only a four dollar cab ride away, and three of the best breakfast places to cure a hangover are two blocks west of me. I love seeing local businesses, like Tacos and Tequila (yeah, you read that right TACOS and TEQUILA… on tap), succeed and giant corporations, like Walmart, kept out of our neighborhood.

I take a lot of grief from my family for not only moving to Austin, but staying in Austin. I’m pretty sure I disappointed my dad, by deciding to go to school here and not in College Station where his Alma Mater stands. (Okay, disappointed might me the wrong word. I don’t think I disappointed my dad by going to college, I just think he would have been ecstatic if I had become an Aggie instead of a Longhorn.) Every time Austin is brought up by or around my parents, it is followed by a snide remark about how weird this town is. Every time I do something they think is odd, it’s because I live in (or have lived too long) in Austin.

I don’t care. I love Austin.

But!

(Yes, there is always a “but”…)

Something has happened in my neighborhood that makes me think every negative thing my father or mother or anyone has ever said about the capital of Texas might be true.

Now, I know to a lot of people, this might not be a very big deal. In fact, I’m sure many of you will think I’m crazy for even taking the time to write a blog post and draw a picture to explain my hatred of this. But, look into yourself. We all have “things” that get under our skin. We all have pet peeves that we think are very important. I don’t like restaurant that offer you Tabasco, but no salsa. (We live in Texas IHop!!!) I don’t like it when Boyfriend leaves his work gloves all over the house. (Why did his boss buy him 10 pairs of gloves???)

And!

And, I don’t like, neigh I HATE the parking spaces on 6th street you have to back into!!!

So, I’ve used this map before, but here it is again. I live in the small community called Clarksville, which is located just west of downtown. The southern edge of Clarksville is W. 6th street. This isn’t crazy, rowdy, Girls Gone Wild 6th street. Nor, is it “I’m a pretentious douche bag who only downs Vodka Redbulls at Molotav” 6th street. (Please note, That I’m just trying to distinguish between the two very different areas of 6th street bars and not making fun, because –face it- we’ve all been there… multiple times, and who and I to judge…) This area of 6th street is full of specialty art and design shops, restaurants like the original Z-Tejas, and other small businesses like Yoga Studios and drug stores. The street was all hunky dory fine until the City came in and redid the parking spaces.

Like this…Yeah… Let’s talk this one through… 6th Street is one way. This means that anyone who wants to park in these parking spots has to drive past the spot, stop, make sure no one is behind them, and then reverse back into on coming traffic to park in the space. Why make traffic stop when someone is trying to park? Instead why not make the parking spots “slant” the other way, so you can just drive right into one, and then when you are ready to leave, you back out of the space when no one is coming. Really Austin? Why? This just doesn’t seem to make sense, and I promise it is not just my inability to back into parking spaces that makes these parking spaces so frustrating and ridiculous to me. I truly believe this to be a “Keep Austin Weird” moment that has totally backfired.

Halloween!!! It's (almost) only a month away...

I have giant floor to ceiling windows in my office, and lately I feel like all they do is trick me into thinking the weather might finally be changing and fall might be coming to Austin. Three weeks ago, one of Boyfriend’s friends called me to get us both to join his Fantasy Football League. He lives in Minnesota and three weeks ago it was 55 degrees! He told me he wore gloves and a beanie to work that morning. I miss fall weather like that. When we lived in Germany during my high school years, we might get one or two football game in before we gave up wearing our normal Cheerleading outfits and added gloves, sweatshirts, and beanies. Boyfriend always says that fall comes to Texas the week of his birthday, and honestly ever since we have been dating (for the past four years) come October 20th, it does get cooler.

It has been rainy here, and I think it’s the rain that tricks me into thinking it could be cooler outside. Plus, my windows are tinted, so everything looks just a little darker. That’s it. Tinted windows and rainy days are enough to trick my mind into believing it might be 65 outside. But it’s not.

One of my favorite things about fall is Halloween. Growing up I loved Halloween. I loved deciding what costume I would wear trick-or-treating and talking to all my friends about what they would be. I liked going to the Commissary with my mom in buying huge bags of candy for the kids in our neighborhood. Even when I was young enough to trick-or-treat, I still loved watching the other kids and seeing all the fun and creative costumes. Halloween is totally Fashion Week for eight year olds.

Costumes I’ve worn on Halloween…

Rainbow Bright
Bridal Tutu from my ballet recital the year before
Witch
Clown/Jester with cool mask
Cat

What is weird is I can’t remember at all what I dressed up as when we lived in Yorktown, Virginia. I know I must have been something, because I think one year I went trick-or-treating with my friend Jennifer and the other year I must have gone around the neighborhood with Michael Pienkowski, but I can’t for the life of me think about what I would have gone as.

When you get older, Halloween becomes (to quote Mean Girls) “The one night a year a girl can dress as a total slut and no other girls can say anything mean about her”. I did this once for a Halloween party Davis Girl, Old Roommate, and I threw my 2nd year of college. Hosting a bad ass Halloween Party was on my list of Things To Do Before I Turn 25 and I marked it off after that night. Yes, when you get older Halloween pretty much becomes a girl’s “pass night” for dressing like a common whore. There are three main ways girls do this.

How to be a Whore on Halloween and be totally acceptable…

Add Animal Ears. (Again to quote Mean Girls) Gretchen - “What are you suppose to be?” Karen – (pointing to her fake grey ears) “I’m a mouse, duh.” Yes, adding any type of animal ear to your slutty dress or, if you’re really daring, your lingerie makes a great Halloween costume.

Add Wings. The year of my slutty début I went with this option. Slutty black dress, fishnets, high heels, and wings… "look ma I’m a fairy! A slutty fairy, but a fairy…"

Kindergarten Career. Okay no, I’m not trying to be gross or pedophile like. What I mean is if you walk into a Kindergarten class and asked the little boys and girls what they want to be when they grow, whatever they tell you will be a great slutty Halloween costume. Policeman! Nurse! Pirate! (What? You can want to be a pirate when you grow up…) All of these occupations make great slutty Halloween outfits.

This is my problem with Halloween now. I am too old to trick-or-treat. Which sucks, because when I was in college I would have lived off that candy for the whole month of November and thus had more beer money. I feel like I’ve already grown out of my “slutty girl” phase, and finding an age appropriate costume (that wouldn’t make me blush in front of my parents) is a challenge.

Since “Slutty Girl” Fairy costume, other costumes I’ve had…

Paris Hilton complete with long blonde wig and stuffed dog.
Amy Winehouse and I teased my own hair into a beehive.

Another problem I have with Halloween is planning what to do. When you are little there is nothing else but dressing up and parading around your neighborhood with your siblings or friends. Therefore there really isn’t that much planning except for deciding whose mom will walk with y’all and what side of the street to start on. Slutty phase meant picking a party or going downtown and taking a chance of getting stabbed with dirty needles. (Yeah I live in a sick town…)

Some people really love Halloween and throw parties every year until they die, and I totally wish I knew people like this. Evidently my sister’s in-laws are like this. I’m jealous that every year she has a built in excuse to get dressed up. Lately ever year my friends and I are scrambling to find somewhere to go last minute because we all want to get dressed up. (Well my friends besides Boyfriend because he thinks getting dressed up is stupid which might be his biggest flaw.)

Halloween Costumes I’ve seen that I wish I thought up…

Lego Men. Old Roommate and his buddy did this one year. They went to Cosco and bought giant barrels of Pretzels. They threw the pretzels out and panted the barrels yellow and cut holes for eyes. They then painted the rest of the Lego face. The rest of the costume was just blue jeans and red T-Shirts with Yellow gloves. They looked awesome!

Bob Barker Beauties: LSU Friend, Cupcake, and another one of their friends did this one year. It was so simple. A fun sparkly dress (because who doesn’t want to wear a fun sparkly dress), big teased hair, and a large arrow sign to point to “awesome and fabulous” prizes. You get extra credit if you can get a guy to wear a white wig and carry around a very long, very thin microphone.

Bride from Kill Bill. My sister did this last year and it turned out amazing. All she wore was an old white dress, but she got to have a lot of fun with bloody make up. Oh, and you should be barefoot.

I know it’s not October yet, but I wanted to write this post early to get ideas for costumes and what my friends and I should do this year. Please help us out!

Also, thanks to everyone who is reading. Last week I finally put a counter up and I got almost 300 hits. I’m not sure if this is good or bad in the whole wide world of blogging, but it made me feel pretty great. Also, I wanted to thank you guys who post my link on their Facebook pages or status’ as it then reaches more people I don’t know. (Sister, you are awesome at this!) Don’t forget to follow and leave comments. Again, thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoy this blog as much as I do.

My Other Addictions and a Portrait of my Sister...

The day I started this blog I knew I would write a blog post about my addiction to breakfast tacos. They really are a very important part of my life. If you read this blog regularly, you know that a few weeks ago I started going to Boot Camp at 5:30 in the morning to get my butt back into shape. On day one of Boot Camp, my trainer sent us an email of nutritional information to eat healthy and thus, lose more weight and look more amazing. I read the damn thing front and back and couldn’t find a single time the two words, “breakfast” and “taco” were written next to one another. My love, my passion, my addiction was not allowed, and therefore I was going to have to quit cold turkey. Like most addicts and most people who try to quit anything cold turkey, I haven’t been 100% successful. Now I don’t stop every morning at Taco Cabana or Rudy’s like I used to, but a couple of times I haven’t been able to get rid of the shakes with yogurt and fruit. Sometimes, like this morning, I just have to dash into Taco Shack and grab me a potato, egg, and cheese.

But, I should stop talking about Breakfast Tacos because I’ve already written about that love and addiction and I am kinda making myself hungry.

Lemon Lady’s Other Addictions!!!

Popsicles: Besides Breakfast Tacos I go through phases with foods I crave and have to have. Davis Girl and other college roommates probably remember my love for banana peppers from the jar and Best Friend remembers how during my senior year of High School I only at cheese and peanut butter crackers with a box of apple juice for breakfast every morning. (Well every morning until I got my own car and could drive to Taco Cabana…) Right now I am on a huge Popsicle kick. Not just any popsicles, but the ones that come just as juice in a plastic shell and you have to freeze them so they become popsicles. And not the name brand Fla-Vor-Ice but the knock offs that HEB sells in the red mesh bag, two for four dollars. I eat the purple, orange, and pinks first. Then I start on the reds and greens, and when I have no others left I eat the blues. I do not like blue flavored things. And, yes, blue is a flavor! But if I’m all out of grape, orange, strawberry (I think that is what pink is suppost to be) cheery, and lime, I will totally go there. The fact that I will eat the blue popsicles, even though I kinda don’t like them, totally makes me an addict. I figure it is like when Crack addicts are all out of the good stuff, they don’t cry and wish they had saved a hit for a rainy day. Crack addicts get down on their hands and knees and search the carpet for that tiny bit they dropped last Tuesday to support their habit. Obviously my popsicles wouldn’t last in the hot harsh climate out of the freezer, so I only have to search behind the chicken breasts I never remember to take out and thaw for dinner and that cold pack I used once in college. This is why I am superior to Crack addicts. (Popsicles! Improving Self Esteem One Plastic Wrapper at a Time!)

Dove’s Go Fresh and Energize Beauty Bar: I never used bar soap until I started dating Boyfriend. Boyfriend might be the most meticulous shower taker I’ve ever seen. He makes me feel dirty watching him get clean. (Haha! That’s what she said.) I’m not trying to have a dirty mind here. I’m trying to state a fact. Boyfriend usually gets home after me and the first thing he does is get in the shower. He showers and I sit on the toilet and we talk about our days or have geography quizzes with the help of our map of the world shower curtain. The boy lathers up so much that if he doesn’t stand under the water it looks like he is wearing a soft, yellow, onesie. He spends like five minutes on each toe. He washes his head with soap and then shampoo. (For y’all who don’t know Boyfriend he shaves his head, so he has very little hair.) He does all of this with Dove’s Go Fresh and Energize Beauty Bar. It’s made from lemongrass and grapefruit and I think fairy wings (although that’s not on the box). Pretty much it’s the Dove soap in the yellow box. He smells amazing when he gets out of the shower. Seriously, no cologne is better, and Axe Body spray or wash can suck it, because nothing smells better than clean Boyfriend and yellow soap. Mark me down as an addict.

Bloody Mary: Okay first of all I mean the drink and not Queen Mary who murdered a whole lot of English people for not being Catholic. Whoever decided to first mix tomato juice and vodka together is a genius and whoever then made it spicy and added celery might just be Jesus. In fact we all know the Bible has been translated and retranslated 100s of times, so maybe in the original version of The Book of John, Jesus’ last super was bread and Bloody Marys instead of bread and wine. But seriously, who doesn’t love the fact that they can get a serving of fruit out of the way by mixing it with alcohol. Plus you get all sorts of snacks in your glass to munch on like celery and olives. I am on a search for the best Blood Mary and the best Bloody Mary Bar in Austin.

Best Bloody Mary!
Reds Porch on South Lamar: VERY SPICY and they put spicy green beans in the glass to snack on.
South Congress Café on South Congress: They make their Blood Mary with jalapeño infused Titos vodka.
Boyfriends Bloody Mary: He throws in onion and bell pepper as well as an extra shot of the good stuff, Dripping Springs Vodka.

Best Bloody Mary Bar!
Cover 3 on Anderson Lane: Hands down, this place has no competition. It is a giant spread of mixes, veggies, spices, and hot sauces that covers three tables. Plus they give you a list of premium vodkas to choose from.

On a completely different note… I got a message today letting me know that my sister’s baby is officially the size of a lemon! I picture it as something like this…

"Hi. My name is Lemon, and I'm an addict."

Addiction
A lot of people I know watch the show “Intervention”. I have seen a few episodes, but they kind of disturb me. For those of you who haven’t seen the A&E hit, they all follow the same pattern…

Scene 1: Meet Junkie. (I’m going to use the word junkie although technically a junkie is someone addicted to drugs and more specifically Heroin. But for some people their love for hording troll dolls and drinking a bottle of Gin while singing to their cat is totally like Heroin, so Junkie they will be called.)

Scene 2: See Junkie in their day to day activities of being a junkie. This can include getting ready for work in a 500 square foot apartment with enough crap to fill the local Goodwill and enough trash to make Oscar the Grouch giggle like school girl, poor Vodka into your bowl of Fruit Loops, or smoke enough Crystal Meth so even the viewer’s teeth shutter and start rotting from the inside out.

Scene 3: Family members cry and show pictures of when Junkie was just a slightly overweight teen with an ache problem. “Junkie has so much love in his/her heart..”

Scene 4: Intervention. Junkie, family, and friends sit in a circle on folding chairs. I mention the chairs because obviously Junkie doesn’t have this many chairs in his house. Hell, my parents don’t have enough chairs to hold an Intervention. Everyone must be seated... mom, dad, step mom, step dad, brother, sister, the half-brother twins, sister-in-law, nephew, Pastor of the church Junkie attended as a kid, co-worker 1, co-worker 2, co-worker 3, friend 1, friend 2, best friend, other best friend who until now thought he was the only best friend, ex girlfriend/boyfriend, dude from the liquor store down the street, nosy neighbor, and grandma. It’s like 25 chairs. Even with my parent’s new pool and therefore new patio furniture, even they don’t have 25 chairs. This means one of two things, A&E trucked in 25 folding chairs and everyone grabbed one as they walked into Junkies apartment, or everyone brought their own chair. Important tip for any Junkies out there... if you see a truck full of chairs pull up the curb in front of your house, or your friends start coming over with their own chairs in hand, shot up, grab the Tequila, and run.

Scene 5: ? (I’ve never gotten past the actual intervention. I have no idea what happens next. Do they go to rehab? Do they confess their crimes? Does grandma have a heart attack? I have no idea. I just can’t get past the intervention because the whole addiction part of this show hits way to close to home...

Why?
Because...

I am addicted. (sorry mom and dad)


Breakfast Tacos.

Breakfast Tacos are my crack. They are my speed, my morphine, my caffeine. I crave them. I need them. I am addicted. “Hi. My name is Lemon Lady, and I’m an addict.”
Every morning at 9:00 something in my brain clicks and starts screaming, “MUST HAVE BEAN AND CHEESE...!!!!” Then (and I’m not sure if this is scientifically how it happens) nerves that the taco addicted brain controls send green lights down to my arms and legs that are holding the steering wheel and pressing on the gas of my car. I then start to fantasize about soft warm tortillas, and before I even know what I’m doing or how I go there I am handing over my debit card and collecting my fix. Don’t judge. I’m sick.
Like any good Junkie I have learned to hide my addiction from my family, friends, and even my suppliers.

First up, my family. It is no secret in my family that I don’t particularly like breakfast food. It is also no secret that I love Mexican food. Really love Mexican food. For my 10th birthday I made my mom throw me a Mexican Fiesta. Now to most my friends here in south Texas this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal or to hard for my very talented, amazing mother to handle. But we didn’t live in south Texas. We lived in England, and my birthday is in December. Could she run to HEB for tortillas? No. Where there avocados at the Commissary? No. Was there a Mexican supply store for her to pick up a piñata and casscorones? No. Still, I wanted a Mexican fiesta and my mother made me a Mexican Feista. Now when I go home and my parents ask what I want for breakfast (because we always have big breakfast together) I try not to scream, “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN!!! JUST ROLL SOMETHING IN A TORTILLA SO I CAN SHOVE IT IN MY MOUTH AND CALM THE SCREAMING BRAIN CELLS THAT NEED THE POTATO, EGG, AND CHEESE!!!” (sorry mom and dad)

My friends don’t see me very often in the morning, and although I don’t usually get to work until 9:30 I’m actually one of the early birds at my office. Most other people who do the same job I do get in about 10:30-11:00. It’s the weekend when I really have be confident that I can control my taco urges, put my big girl panties on and just say no. Poor boyfriend. On mornings when we are both home and don’t have to word i.e. Sundays, he is always up before me. Sometime between 8:30 and 9:00 I wonder into the living room to cuddle with him and drink some of his juice. At about 9:12 I start to think of subtle ways I bring up the breakfast taco situation like the sane and rational girlfriend I pretend to be.
“Are you hungry?”

“Oh look at that nice house that nice couple in New Jersey is thinking about buying on House Hunters. It has a nice kitchen. Wouldn’t that bar be perfect for STUFFING TACOS DOWN MY THOAT because I’m starting to get the shakes?”

“I will trade you my childhood bike (pink with rainbow streamers), four purple Popsicles, a lewd sexual act, the good pillows to sleep with tonight, my soul, and let you play with my iPhone for a whole hour with no interruptions if you go to Taco Shack right now and come home with two migas tacos.”

“Its 9:22 and you haven’t even brought up going to Torchy’s Tocos, yet. WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU AND WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!!!”

While my family, boyfriend, and friends understand that I am a little weird and defiantly the most awkward person they know, I try to come off to strangers as very cool, calm, and collective. I’m a young professional. Look, I’m wearing heals, and I put on makeup. “She is driving a mid-price car, lives in a nice home on a nice street, and subscribes to the Economist.* She must be a contributing member of society.”I have an image to uphold. Because I care what strangers who work at Taco stands think and maybe more because I’m a paranoid Junkie, I have my dealers on rotation.

When I need them fast and greasy: Taco Cabana. I always get their Breakfast Combo… one bean and cheese, one potato egg and cheese, and an unsweetened ice tea. They are located right as I get off the highway on my way to work and have a drive through. Yes, the hot sauce is sometimes watery. Yes, about 40% of the time I don’t actually get cheese on my potato, egg, and cheese taco because the Cabana-ians who work the place don’t understand that just because the menu only says “potato and egg” doesn’t mean that people don’t want to add cheese for an extra 20 cents. Yes, the drive through guy who works Mondays has creepy long crack nails. I don’t care. If it’s 9:32 and I’m not at work I’m zipping through the Cabana drive through to get my fix.

When I want my Tacos with an amazing ice tea and with potatoes with a nice crunch: Rudys. The Worst BBQ in Texas also makes the worst breakfast tacos in Texas. And, duh, my worst I mean the BEST! As moist as the brisket is at lunch time, their potato, egg, and cheese can’t be touched at breakfast. Honestly, hands down love the potato, egg, and cheese. They are huge, the potatoes are seasoned well and have a nice crunch, and they load on the cheese! Downside of Rudy’s tacos… bean and cheese is a no go. They make them by using the same baked beans they use as sides with BBQ later on in the day. Really, not yummy. They don’t have a drive through and they are usually quite busy. Lastly, every time I walk up the counter to order, which I have to do because they don’t pre-make potato, egg, and cheese, the guy behind the counter makes the same conversation about my Dallas Cowboys debt card. “Cowboy fan? Boo! Go Stealers!”Now the first time this happened I humored him by letting him know that the Stealers are going to be horrible this year, their quarterback is a rapist, and “aren’t you you a little far from home?”. Now I just glare at him. This doesn’t stop him from his little Stealer routine and staring at my boobs.

The new place: Convience Store around the corner with a Torchy’s Taco hookup. Torchy’s gets high ranks for their salsa and bean flavor. Unfortunately Store around the corner isn’t Torchy, but just sells their tacos meaning they can be soggy, but only sometimes. Good news is that I went into another Corner Store yesterday with LSU friend to grab wine and M&Ms before hitting the couch for a new Top Chef, and they have Torchy’s Tacos, too! (Say that five times fast… Torchy’s Tacos Too. Torchy’s Tacos Too. Torchy’s… you get the point) Now if I can only get them to start a price war…

Old Faithful: Nau’s Pharmacy. Full of funny old people getting their fix of medications, I go to Nua’s Pharmacy to get my drug of choice – Tacos. At the back of the Pharmacy that has been around 1951 is a café where they still mix their cokes in shop and make a damn fine chicken salad. During the morning all the seats around the counter and the few booths are full of old men reading newspapers and grandmas entertaining their grandchild for the summer. You can’t get a seat but you can get amazing tacos for a buck. No ice tea here, but I always leave with a “made in front of me” Dr. Pepper. Love this place! I have nothing bad to say. They don’t skimp on filling up the tortilla, the price is good, and no one stares at me inappropriately. (Well maybe an old man or two…)

Other runners up include: Taco Shack, Enchiladas Y Mas, Maria’s Taco Stand, Juan in a Million, and La Reina.

Remember… Rehab is for quitters.



*okay the Economist subscription isn’t mine but boyfriends…

First Post... In which I defend my mother's honor

I started a blog. Why that will come later. But first a true story from lunch today.
Why North Austin is just as crappy as any other large city.
True story.
This happened to during my lunch hour. Co-worker and I decided to eat real food. By real food I mean we didn’t cram fast food into our mouths at 50 miles per hour in between appointments because students never let you eat. P F Changs is only a quarter of a mile away and very empty at 3PM. Well almost empty. Evidently evil house wives with nothing better to do than spread their evil neuron rays from their giant SUVs go to P F Changs at 3PM. Co-worker and I leave work in good spirits and are chatting the whole half a minute drive to the yummy heaven that is the Chang. Co-Worker (who is driving) parks and exits her car without any troubles. I exit the car and stand next to it for a few seconds with the door open because I am trying to figure out how to look the door. As soon as I close the door Evil North Austin Crazed Mother jumps out behind the wheel of her giant, impeccably white SUV and pounces. She gives me the once over with her evil eyes and points out that I have rammed Co-Workers door into her car door so hard “that it shook the car and her children pointed out that I must be an evil bitch because I clearly want to hurt their mother and kidnap them” or something like that.
Now, honest to God, the first thought in my head was I don’t remember banging her door. Thought number 2, not only do I not remember banging her car door but I don’t remember banging her car door and endangering the lives of her children. Thought number 3, I was talking with Co-Worker and she does have a two door car with those weirdly long doors so I might have hit her car door. Thought number 4, wow I’m embarrassed and really sorry because I definitely didn’t mean to hit her impeccably white, impeccably clean SUV with C0-workers 10 year Civic. Also, I am a very fast thinker and these thoughts all happened in the 3 second it took me to say “Wow, I am so sorry. Really you’re car is fine, but again, I’m so sorry.” Now had this been anyone but Evil North Austin Crazed Mother, she would have said, “Oh look. You’re right my car is fine. I am happy my incredibly white doors are not bleeding and my children are still safe. Thank you for apologizing and God Bless.” Yeah… no such luck.
“You jumped out of your car jabbering with your friend, not looking at all….” (Really? Is she serious?) “My children are in this car…” (Got it lady. You have kids. They are in said car.) “And I teach my children to look before they fling open doors!” This is when I start getting really annoyed. Actually something goes off in my brain where this is no longer a slightly embarrassing situation, this is war. “Are you saying my mother didn’t teach me how to open doors and be a good productive citizen and to have good manners.” Okay I really didn’t say the productive citizen thing, but I totally called her out on dissing my wonderful, amazing, perfect mother. In hind sight I should have just looked her in the eye and asked her if she is really the perfect mother who has never made a mistake in front of her kids like spitting gum out on the sidewalk, saying “fuck” under her breath when she stubbed her toe, or accidently opening a car door a little to far and hitting another car. But no I looked her straight in the eye and told her “don’t fucking say shit about the way my mother raised me!!!” in way or another.
When we got inside there were only two other tables occupied in the whole place. Guess who wasn’t leaving P F Changs, but was also on their way into the restaurant? That’s right at 3PM on Tuesday the 13th there were four tables with people at the at P F Changs. Woman alone reading the paper, couple finishing their beers, Co-worker and I, and Evil North Austin Crazed Mother with her two kids. I glared there direction the whole time.