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Kitchen Sink

Better to Be Happy, Than Right, Christine Baranski

November 24th, 2009

I don’t often enter into chick fights. In fact, I tend to avoid altercations altogether if I can at all help it. I’m a people pleaser in that way, and it totally blows. That said, there have been a few times I’ve had my rankles up, talked some smack and got ready to rumble. One of those times was in a South Chicago bar, circa 1988. I won’t go into it. But let’s just say that enormous hair was pulled and fringe leather jackets were tugged. Another time was at Legoland with a be-Bebe’d mombo and her goombah husband. In that instance, rhinestone sunglasses were involved, and pricey strollers.

 

Still, it takes a lot for me to seek conflict. (Unless it’s with The Rock, and for the record, he says, THAT blows.)

 

But today, today, I chick fought the heck out of it. Oh I attempted to stay out of it, I really did. But there’s just those cases where you can’t, you know? Like if someone cuts in front of you at Cold Stone?

 

THIS was one of those times.

 

There’s this mean mom, see. For a visual, she looks like Christine Baranski if Christine Baranski were a crack whore.

 

926-211

 

Oh my God. Total resemblance.

 

At any rate, she drives her freaking minivan down our suburban cul de sac street every day to pick up her child at a home daycare and she FLOORS. IT. I’m talking 40mph in a kids-are-playing-zone.

 

She’s been nicely asked several times to please slow down. Her answer? You should put more “kids are playing” signs up. What I’m thinking? You can see the kids playing, butt nut, take your crack-whorey Christine Baranski foot off the accelerator.

 

But still, she speeds, literally speeds, down our one-way street. With kids on it. Every day. She obviously is trying to prove a point. But her point? You can’t tell me what to do. Our point? Please don’t kill our children. Kinda trumps her Christine Baranski crack whore point.

 

Anyway. Today.

 

Today, my neighbors and I were talking about oh I don’t know, banana bread and Jagermeister (oh! the suburbs.) and we heard, rather than saw, the Christine Baranski whore rounding the corner (the blind corner may I add) and continued to stare aghast as she sped to the end of the cul de sac, narrowly missing three-year-olds and a tetherball.

 

Well, this was it. My neighbor, who had spoken to this lady many times about the lead foot deal, asked me to speak up today. And instead of stepping up, my stomach roiled and my sense of propriety peaked. Why, I couldn’t! Christine Baranski whore might not like me! What? Save innocent childrens’ lives? What if I don’t have any friends as a result of doing so?

 

I’m a real insecure number.

 

BUT. BUT. This lady comes back around on her departure, and as my neighbor flags her down, Baranski flashes this tight, purse-lipped, judgmental bloodless smile and I knew we had a chick fight coming. I cannot stand stick-up-your-ass sorts. Know-it-alls. PTA moms with superiority complexes. Bloodless Christine Baranski whore smiles. It was so, so ON.

 

And what happened next? Raised my rankles in such a way that I approached the car with purpose, with verve, with CHICK FIGHTINESS, and I’m still breathing hard.

 

So this lady says? THIS. LADY. SAYS. “Don’t you have backyards? Why don’t you put your children in the backyard?” AND. THEN. “I’m going the speed limit. The rest is up to you. Get your kids out of the street.” AND. ALSO. “I don’t let my kid play in the street and you shouldn’t either.” And it was there, right there, that I strode to the car and said, “IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU ARE GOING THE SPEED LIMIT IF IT IS NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THE CONDITIONS, I.E. KIDS PLAYING IN THE STREET, SLOW THE HELL DOWN. and “YOU HAVE BEEN ASKED MANY TIMES TO SLOW DOWN ON THIS STREET AND SO ARE AWARE THAT IT IS AN ISSUE AND SO SLOW THE HELL DOWN,” and “YOUR CHILD IS 6 MONTHS OLD. WAIT UNTIL SHE IS 3 AND TRY TO KEEP HER IN THE BACKYARD, AND MEANWHILE SLOW THE HELL DOWN” and “WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE A CHRISTINE BARANSKI WHORE, YOU CHRISTINE BARANSKI WHORE?” and “THIS IS A CUL DE SAC SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF SUBURBIA, AND THERE WILL BE KIDS PLAYING IN IT AND IF YOU ARE THE SORT TO KEEP YOUR KIDS IN A WHITE-CARPETED STERILE BORING SILENT HOME AND REFUSE TO LET THEM PLAY OUTSIDE THEN PITY THE CHILDREN WHO GROW UP WITH YOUR TIGHT-LIPPED ASS,” and “SLOW THE HELL DOWN.”

 

Right, So that was my chick fight.

 

Christine Baranski strode on in her minivan with her 6-month-old sure-to-be-like-Reese-Witherspoon-in-Election and I stood in the middle of the street with my mouth agape, dying to put on my fringe leather jacket and rumble like it was 1988.

 

And in all seriousness, how would you handle this? My more assertive neighbor wants to buy a crapload of “Kids At Play” yellow signs and place them in an obstacle-course-like configuration so Christine Baranski has to slalom her way through our street. I say we put up road blocks and charge her a “bitch toll” to pass through. Either way, I’m thinking I’m about to rip her pursed lips right off, which wouldn’t be very suburban of me.

 

« « PROMPTuesday #83: Sentence Starter    |    The Note » »

On November 24th, 2009, Charity (@VirtueIMC) said:

I only have one thing to say:

Go get the vaseline & take out the hoops… it’s ON!

Oh – and I SOOO LOVE YOU!

That is all… we know resume the previously scheduled MMA cage fight featuring San Diego Momma.

On November 24th, 2009, L.A. Stylist Mom said:

CALL. THE. COPS. Complain that it’s an ongoing problem “in general.” In the ‘burbs? They’ll have a car with a radar gun hidden in your driveway in no time. If that doesn’t work? I’ve got a lead foot and a Louisville Slugger in my trunk…

On November 24th, 2009, Jenn @ Juggling Life said:

You probably have a police officer that regularly helps out with safety patrol at school, right? Well Officer Friendly really is your friend. Get her license number and have a little conversation with your officer who will in all likelihood pay her a visit at home to discuss her driving.

She will be totally humiliated and that should do it.

Yes, I know this from personal experience.

On November 24th, 2009, Mama Mary said:

My feathers are so ruffled right now. I want to kick some Christine Baranski a$$ right now! Good for you for speaking up! Chick fights rule! This lady sucks. Can I come by and throw eggs at her car?

On November 24th, 2009, Melanie @ Mel, A Dramatic Mommy said:

I can tell you what NOT to do: do not follow her home, block her driveway with your car and yell at her through the window so her neighbors come out wondering what’s going on.

The police think that’s a bad idea (but it felt damn good!)

I agree with everyone else. Call the police, they’ll help you.

On November 25th, 2009, stoneskin said:

You, my dear, are now my hero.

On November 25th, 2009, Green Girl in Wisconsin said:

Report her plates to the police and have them set up a trap. You rock for getting in her face. My friend just had this problem recently and she gave the plates to the police. Problem solved.

On November 25th, 2009, Danielle said:

I have to agree with everyone else, I would put up the obstacle course of those little yellow kids with the red flags that indicate kids are playing. I would line those suckers up along the street or at least at every driveway. And then I would call the cops on that bitch.

On November 25th, 2009, Judy said:

My first thought was a few conveniently placed nails – put out right before she comes barreling down the road. But the police idea is probably better.

On November 25th, 2009, MissM said:

This sounds kind of mean, and I can’t believe that I am going to type it, but… Put a baby doll right behind one of her tires while her car is parked, and when she backs over it, maybe it will scare her enough to slow down.

On November 25th, 2009, San Diego Momma » Blog Archive » The Note said:

[…] Should I put it on her car? […]

On November 27th, 2009, Da Goddess said:

Fuck the kids at play signs. Rip her lips off. And pardon my French.

She’s a bitch and she knows it. She’ll know it even more if she runs over someone’s kid and ends up going to jail, because I’d be pressing major charges against her. She’s recklessly endangering lives, I tell ya.

Oh and you were too polite.

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