|Mean Girl looked meaner |
than this. And she had
real hands and feet.
Okay, so here's what happened...Tennis match today. Low level women's team. Obviously, we want to win, but the entire endeavor is mostly friendly and social. There is no money winning going on. No possible endorsement deals. We are in a fenced in area that has 2 courts with no divider between the courts. The matches start off with practice hitting around. Mean Girl and her partner are playing on the court next to me. Both my partner and I have to give Mean Girl back a ball or retrieve one from her court. Same thing is going on the other side with our opponents and Mean Girl's opponents. When all this is happening, we are all exchanging pleasantries and sorries, etc. Except for Mean Girl. She makes us go onto her court to get our ball. She won't get it for us. BUT, she won't come on our court to get hers. She's waiting for us to get hers for her. No smiling. No thank yous. Only mean face making.
After several exchanges, I tell my partner that I am going to tell Mean Girl she's a pill if she doesn't knock if off. Then, and here's where it gets a little ugly, I point out (only to my partner/close friend) that Mean Girl is a little fat and her skirt is too short. I have to let you know, I am not in any position to be pointing out anyone else's weight issues (skirt, yes), but I don't care, she was bitchy. At one point during the match I see Mean Girl and her partner tapping racquets and praising one another for a good point. I turn to my partner (who also saw and heard this) and make a mimic-y face that only she can see. We chuckle. Our next point starts and I promptly hit the ball into the net. In my family, we call that a GP (God Punish). A little while later I point out to my partner that Mean Girl has a rather unattractive sweat pattern on the back of her shirt. Ha ha, stinks to be her. We lost both sets.
So, now you know I am petty and not that good at tennis. Well, I would have played better if I was not so distracted by other people's meanness. I don't know why I cared that she was crabby and miserable or why I took it personally, but I did. I consider it a win that I didn't actually say anything to her or in a voice loud enough for her to hear.
|Oh, how darling that you |
thought tonight's game was
for the actual Stanley Cup!
What a hoot you are!
Since Husband was already troubled by my lack of hockey knowledge, I didn't mention the mean girl incident. He will tell me I am the mean one for saying those things (what does he know, he wasn't even there). So, just keep it under your chapeau.