My teenagers often accuse me of being overly judgmental. When they say this, I usually vehemently and righteously reject this, on principal, of course. After all, that’s not very good parenting, now is it? We’re supposed to teach our children to give everyone they meet the benefit of the doubt, right? Yes, as a general rule.
But sometimes while traveling the proverbial roads of life, just minding my own business, I slam headfirst into unapologetic Asstards that throw themselves into my path. These people deserve my harshest judgment. Stop giving me that look. You know you do it, too. We humans are constantly judging one another, whether we admit it or not. I’d like to argue here (because it’s my blog), that maybe the ability to quickly pass judgment on someone might just come in handy. Maybe even keep you from becoming the subject of a CSI: Special Victims Unit episode. Yep, I think everyone should work on sharpening up those natural Judgment Skills. Stop being ashamed, America, and start judging others! You can thank me later.
I should mention here that, fortunately for my daughters, my judgmental-ness is of the silent sort, never spoken out loud (at least in public). That’s because I’m passive aggressive, which means… I think about punching A-holes hard right their stupid smug faces, but I don’t. But I sure think about it. A lot. And, hey, now I get to write about it, too.
Here is a list of 5 People I’d like to Smash My Fist into their Eyeholes:
1. Smug Rich Lady at the Grocery Store.
Dear Self-Important, Steaming Pile of Smug: I saw you last Sunday at the grocery store, carrying your sustainably organic gluten-free yuppie hemp grocery bags. As you attempted to pass judgment on me while looking through your hipster glasses, down your plastic nose and over your Botoxed chin, I was silently judging YOU instead. I saw you grimace, or at least attempt to grimace since your facial skin no longer actually moves, when I told the sacker, “yes, plastic please.” I assumed you disapproved of my non-politically correct choice of grocery –carrying devices, but now, upon further introspection, I realize you were probably just mad because the word “plastic” made you think about the permanent state of your skin. Oh, and also, you look like a dumbass desperate housewife in your glittery 5-inch designer heels at Kroger. I think I’ll stick to my purple Crocs and ‘80s mom jeans, thankyouverymuch. I am silently judging you.
2. Creepy Ice Cream Truck Guy.
Dear Pervy Ice Cream Truck Guy driving the rainbow-painted Murder Van: You drive your Murder Den on wheels at the creeping pace of a Slow Loris down my street every evening. I got a good look at you this summer when I bought a Sponge-Bob popsicle for my daughter one evening. It doesn’t take a degree from Harvard to determine, with one look at your missing tooth grin and your obvious lack of personal grooming skills, that you most definitely spent some recent Hard Time in the Isolation Ward at the State Penitentiary. You couldn’t get a real job, what with your permanent record and all, so you stole an old van, painted it with happy rainbows and smiley faces, and starting stalking my neighborhood for victims. I am pretty sure you are planning on putting Roofies in your ice cream sandwiches. I am SO on to your little game, Perv Man. I am silently judging you.
3. Spoiled Miss Popular at the Bookstore.
Dear Spoiled Rotten Miss Fancy Teen Bee-otch with an Attitude: Emily and I accidentally ran into you and your giggling pile of Bee-otches at Barnes and Nobles this summer. You made an ugly, inappropriate and judgmental comment to Emily, who used to be your friend, but is now no longer worthy of your attention. I personally witnessed your special brand of Teen Venom, and ERMAHGERD, I want you to know we really, really HATE you now. AND all of Your Snooty Kind who infest America’s high schools with the putrid stench of your Holier-than-Thou self-importance. If I could smash you in the face without getting arrested, I would. I am silently judging you.
4. Shoesalesman at Lord & Taylor.
Dear Overly Feminine Shoesalesman in the Ralph Lauren Suit: I’m sure it was pretty obvious to you, judging from our Wal-Mart Wear, that we are not the kind of people who shop at your stupid ass Lord & Taylor. My family and I were simply walking through your store on a hot summer day to get to the restroom. We committed an act of obviously poor judgment when we stopped for a few minutes in your shoe department to oogle your overpriced shoes. Actually, overpriced is an understatement. I would need to cash in my entire retirement portfolio plus take out a hefty loan from a dude named Guido in order to afford even one pair of your high heeled Skank Shoes. As we were giggling at that fact, I saw you, wearing your $3,000 designer suit, narrow your overly eyeliner-ed eyes at us. You must have been pissed. But not at us. You were pissed that you had to spend your entire minimum wage Shoe Salesman paycheck on that dumb ass suit. And did I mention… you are a SHOE salesman? Hahaha, who’s the real loser here? I am silently judging you.
5. Monster Truck Driver Who Owns the Road.
Dear Tiny Man in the Massive Monster Truck who cut me off this morning: I’m sure you were in a huge hurry to get to your important job slinging hog slop at a farm in nearby Redneckville. You were totally justified in nearly causing 5 wrecks as you weaved your way through morning traffic and heaved your aircraft-carrier-sized tires over the curb and then proceeded to drive down the grassy median. We drivers in our lowly ecno-cars were super-impressed with your angry-man driving skills. I don’t even have to meet you to know that you are definitely a 4-ft tall 54-year old with a Napoleon Complex who never went through puberty so you feel the need to compensate with a massive fat-tired road killing machine. I’ve got news for you, you angry little redneck hobbit: I am silently judging you.
OK, I’m sure we can all agree that I am a judgmental person with kind-of a mean streak. But I only spend way too much time on violent thoughts about idiots who are judging me first… like the lady at the grocery store who took one look at my crocs and assumed I was a homeless person. So, you know what? I don’t feel so bad about being judgmental anymore. After much reflection, most of my snap judgments are keeping me safer by helping me avoid murderers in rainbow vans and road-ragers bent on destruction on neighborhood streets.
So I actually hope that my teenagers develop a sense of judgment. As women, we often smile politely and respond to weirdo creeps who make us feel uneasy, simply because we are taught not to hurt someone’s feelings. This is just wrong. If a Sicko invades your sense of personal space at school or at the mall, listen to your God-given sense of intuition and don’t try to be the Nice Girl. This is your time to scream and run. I say, “To hell with his “feelings”! So you see, this is a handy life skill, after all.
Tonight I’m going to wear 5-inch heels and a hot pink Bridesmaid dress to Kroger and purchase nothing but an extra-large bag of Pigskins. I can’t wait to see what kind of looks I get!