Tolerance and Children

These days I find that I have very little patience if any. My tolerance for people, other than my husband and children, is zero.

The problem is I don’t mind telling people what I think of their stupidity…

So to you, the douche bag texting while driving next to me and my precious babies. I had no problem rolling down my window to tell you: You are a fucking asshole and I hope you run your car up the curb and hit a pole (of course injuring no one).

To you, the guy in Starbucks that decided to walk in front of me after I had been waiting 15 minutes for a Latte ,with a toddler impatiently waiting for her blueberry muffin while holding my now fussing 11 month old. I had no problem asking you: What am I invisible to you? His response: Oh, sorry, I did not see you there. Me: I guess I am invisible; kind of surprising being that I have a toddler yanking on my skirt and a fussing baby hanging off my hip.
Him: Here let me buy your coffee.
Me: Damn right… as I grab my latte and Addison’s muffin and we head out the door.

To you, the teenager who cut me off; nice to see you at the red light. I had no problem rolling down my window to tell you: You are a fucking moron and I am sure your mother would be so proud.

And finally, to you cashier at Target; who forgot to ring up half my stuff before totaling, then needing a manager to override and having the nerve to blame me. I had no problem telling you: Learn how to do your fucking job; it’s not rocket science.

Maybe it is because I worked in a restaurant for 12 years and had to deal with idiots all day (especially over the phone) or maybe it is because I have to reserve what little patience I have left for my children.

So, if you ever happen to run into me and piss me off, you can be assured I am going to tell you that you’re a jerk and it will most definitely be in a not so polite way.