I have never, ever, in my entire life been in an actual, physical fist fight with anyone.
Well, there was that incident in second grade where I bloodied Randy C.'s nose, but that wasn't really my fault. I mean, I told him to leave me alone.
However, tonight I came as close as I ever have been to clocking Mr. Whiney Government Man.
As I entered the classroom tonight, these were his completely ignorant, devoid of thought or common sense comments to me:
"Hey, I've got my grocery list with me! If you've got time to make a 94 on a test, you've got time to run to the store for me!" (insert insipid chortling here)
I'm a nice person.
I can take teasing.
But this...this made my blood boil.
On the outside, one would observe a quiet demeanor and a coy smile as I calmly took my seat, never raising my eyes to look at him because in actuality they might shoot real honest-to-God flames and incinerate his juvenile, condescending ass.*
Inside I was screaming and throwing desks. I was grabbing him by the throat. I was...well, it wasn't pretty.
"BOW WHEN YOU SPEAK TO ME, SWINE!!!!! I AM SUPERMOM, RULER OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND DOMESTIC! I HAVE TAMED TODDLERS AND TAUGHT THEM TO POTTY! DO NOT MOCK ME!!!!!"
I manage to take a deep breath, unclench my fists and repress the twitch I feet in my left eye. This man needs a lesson in decorum and couth. I use this opportunity to tell him, in no uncertain terms, exactly with whom he is dealing.
"Well," I sigh, and say with a smile, "let me just give you the low down. I have three children. I homeschool. I own my own business. And I am taking 12 freaking hours. I don't have the time. I MAKE the time." And I give my desk a whack, just for emphasis.
Hmph. No response.
I sit through the rest of the class, trying desperately to focus on what the instructor is saying, but I'm livid. I am even more embarrassed when the instructor asks me a question and I have no reply because though my eyes have been on him, I didn't hear a word of what he said.
I feel my ears turn red.
When class is dismissed, I walk by Whiney Man's desk, not about to look his direction.
"See you next week!" he says cheerfully.
I keep walking.
"Good job, girl. I'm proud of you."
That's all I needed. I am validated. Whiney Man gets to live another week.
Lucky for him.
*Those of you who know me personally may be surprised, perhaps even offended, by my use of profanity. It is not something you are likely to ever hear from my lips. And you have never seen me write it here. However, I do sometimes curse in my head and this situation was absolutely curse-worthy. I figure if I think it, it must be okay to write it. So either I am growing up or spiraling downward into a dark, sinister black hole of evil. Maybe both.