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the renegade bride

the wild, wacky adventures of a bridal industry insider +newlywed + new homeowner and (in practice)renovation-maven. Whee!

Tag Archives: yearbooks

This morning I started out with high hopes and plans for productive success. I was woken up early by a smiling FFI, who I could not be angry at for disrupting my sleep, because he’s adorable. I am generally pretty possessive about my sleep, and like to get any extra tidbits in that I can, but I went to bed (read:fell asleep on the couch after a glass of wine) pretty early last night because I found the Olympics dull and boring. Perfect sleep material. So, got up, coffeed myself, showered, went upstairs to grab a book and…

— got swept into the vortex of yearbook reading. How the hell did that happen, you ask? I ask the same thing. I’m not particularly attached to high school. I didn’t attend my dreaded 10 year reunion, and I don’t plan to attend any of the others that follow. I didn’t even get all my yearbooks– just sophomore and junior year. That was mostly economic in nature, because even 10+ years ago the things were a mint, but anyway… So I was getting this big book on top of the yearbooks, and one of them just kind of slid to the ground, so I was like, “oh, i have no agenda or need for productivity this morning, hows about I look at these people from my past that I very rarely, if ever, see or hear from.”

There’s something about looking at your old yearbook. It kind of makes you feel like you felt in high school: the world was so infinitely big, everything seemed full of so much promise and untapped potential. I looked a lot different back then, with long red hair and I was thin (thanks to a diet that consisted of 20 fat grams per day– I was crazy!), and most of the little messages from friends told me about how I was “insane” or a “wacky chick”. That’ll be on my headstone one day, “She was a wacky chick.”

I forced myself away from nostalgia and headed on my way, out the door and into the world. I decided it was a good morning to stop in at Starbucks (is it ever NOT a good morning) and apparently my desires for fresh brewed java were in concert with like, the whole of downtown as the place was PACKED with caffeine-seeking office workers. The line was like 20 deep. Ever the addict, I patiently waited for my coffee, and as I patiently bided (or is it “bid’) my time, I noticed that the people in front of me were the rudest. people. in. the. world. No joke.

It was a couple in their mid 50s from someplace other than here. The wife happened upon some “small world!” coincidence with a people a few people back from me, and had to strike up a convo from a distance.  Her husband took it upon himself to order for her (she was so kind to shout out the order to him: a tall misto, nonfat, no foam, )and then proceeded to take the order of the “small world!” friends she had discovered. There were like 10 people ahead of her as she placed this order, but whatever, I decided it was cool. She was just being friendly.

Approximately seven seconds after ordering, she decided to start complaining about how long this whole process was taking. Blah blah “i didn’t order anything that complicated, what’s the hold up”– well, lady, probably it’s the 10 other customers that are ahead of you.  A few minutes later, when she “FINALLY!!!!” gets her drink, the barista reiterates the order to which rude lady says, “Well, I wanted the foam, but whatever.”

I wanted to take those little free music download cards and toss them at her. She was such a nasty lady that I wanted to start a rousing applause when she and her little ragtag group of rudekins left the store, but then they decided to sit down and “catch up.” I did a lot of glaring that went largely unnoticed. Some people.

Rude people are really the bain of my existence. I have no patience for them. I get really irritated and start trying to reason with them (which never works) and then try the saccharine sweet southern tactic where you’re so nice that you hope it will make people nice right back (sometimes a failed attempt). The final straw for me is when they keep being rude and you just can’t even take it anymore, and  then you just have to get violent.

I realize this blog has nothing to do with engagements or weddings. It’s a kind of boo post. You are welcome to not tell your friends about it and shun me in comments.


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