Ain’t No Rest for The Petty

I always get a laugh when someone I know says something like, “Come on, Maggie.  You’re not petty like that.” Or, “I know you.  You’re above that.”

I have to pause from those conversations and take a moment to look in the mirror to make sure that I’m actually wearing my own face that day, and not one of those Ronald Reagan rubber masks from Point Break that I like to wear on Thursdays, because I assume a case of mistaken identity must be involved here.

There’s no way to prove that’s not me on the right.

If you claim to know me but would state that I am above any level of pettiness or immaturity, then we need to get together more often, because you obviously know jack squat about me.

Also, I’m very busy with social anxiety and I don’t have time to get together with you.

Here’s the facts, folks.  I am probably the most petty and immature person you have ever encountered.  I am not being self-deprecating here.  I saw the “Nanette” special on Netflix.  Don’t tell me to not be so hard on myself.  I should be at least five thousand times harder on myself.

I can assure you that I am not above nearly any level of pettiness.  If anything, I would be willing to go much, much, much lower if the situation were to warrant it.  So low that sometimes I almost want the situation to warrant it so I can once again feel the thrill of vengeful house-egging and the pounding of my heart as I run away, villain-laughing, exclaiming, “That’s the last time you’ll question MY pet rat-naming skills, ho-bag!” into the damp Florida night.

“Chad” is a perfectly good name for a pet rat and I still stand by that to this day.  Take a second and think about every Chad you’ve ever met.  See?  It makes sense.

You know one or more of these rats is a frat bro turned investment banker.

Pettiness and immaturity are two of those things that when you’re younger you think are just a consequence of youth and inexperience, and that you’ll eventually grow out of them.  That being said, if you’re still petty and immature when you round the big 4-0, that deal is pretty much sealed.  You’re officially, permanently, petty and immature.  You should probably try out for a show on Bravo.  Let’s all get together and petty it up sometime.

Also, I’m very busy with social anxiety and I don’t have time to get together with you.

Like so many things in life, I turn to the film “Moonstruck” to work through this behavior, so anytime someone accuses me of being petty, I just yell, “In time you’ll drop dead and I’ll come to your funeral in a red dress!”

Pretty sure I have to get that Moonstruck quote tattooed somewhere, but that would break my longstanding tradition of having tattoos that don’t mean anything.  It’s too bad, because I reach for that quote often, mostly when I am making an obscene Sicilian gesture at someone who has already left the room.

I am not Sicilian, by the way, as evidenced by my lack of ability to make delicious Sunday gravy, and my complete failure at being able to talk with my hands without looking like Zack Morris trying to talk his way out of detention with Mr. Belding.

I am so Northwestern European that in a recent WASP contest, I came in first place in not knowing what the big deal is about that Despacito song.  I saw Andrew McCarthy on television one time, fanned myself with a slice of Oscar Mayer bologna, and exclaimed, “Well, my my my!  Who is this Grecian gigolo?!”

Get this (and this shit is crazy).  Just last month I sent in a passport application and it got kicked back to me because they claimed they were unable to discern my facial features against the solid white background in the passport photo.  In order to remedy this, I had to go run around a building to put some color in my cheeks and put on some bronzer to re-take the photo because apparently I’m so freaking pale I DON’T SHOW UP ON FILM.

Any Sicilian gestures that I know I just learned by osmosis from having my face pressed against the television while watching re-runs of The Golden Girls for the past 30 years or so.  Television is educational, and I won’t put up with you disparaging it.

And perhaps you would not be receiving this obscene Sicilian gesture to begin with had you NOT looked at my new shoes and instead of complimenting them said, “Wow.  What size shoe do you wear?” implying that my feet are huge.  Also, my feet are actually huge.  You think I don’t know that?

I refuse to field any questions as to my wardrobe in this photo from 1992, but good lord, look at the size of those feet.  You could power a tugboat with those flippers.

Guess what you’ve done now, Puf’nStuf?  Now you’ve gone and made yourself an enemy.  You couldn’t just compliment the shoes, even if you didn’t mean it?  I compliment people on their shoes all the time and I don’t mean it.  It’s called “being a contributing member of society”.  It’s called being a “team player”, you Juicy Fruit jackwagon.

You thought you could throw your little passive-aggressive stuff at me and I would just lie down with my giant feet in the air and take it, but now I will do everything in my power to make sure you are on the receiving end of my pettiness and immaturity FOREVER.  And, no, I will never forgive you.  Ever!  The die has been cast!  The only difference between you being all frozen in a block of my loathing and Han Solo being all frozen in that giant bar of chocolate is that Han Solo is eventually getting out of his predicament.

Oops!  That was a spoiler.

You have now been cordially drafted into the ranks of several dozens of individuals I have encountered in my life who fall squarely into the “Nemesis” category.  As such, you will now live in the long shadow of my wrath and I will make it my life’s work to end you.

“End you”, by the way, means I will mock your mannerisms behind your back as you walk away, and mentally put snotty air-quotes around your name anytime I think about you, and maybe tell people behind your back that I think your baby looks like Wilford Brimley and that nobody is fooled by that pink satin headband.  I will elaborate by telling them that unless that pink satin headband covers your baby’s entire face, your baby will still look like Wilford Brimley, and that you should invest in a headsuit rather than just a headband.

Quietly.  From a hundred feet away.

It is important to note that I am now at an age where my wrath is exceeded only by my complete and total fear of confrontation.

29 thoughts on “Ain’t No Rest for The Petty

      1. Ever watch Casey Neistat’s vlogs? Super entertaining (just like reading your blogs are) and literally, he’ll do anything for anyone (well almost) as long as there are well stocked snacks involved! That just reminded me of him, if you’ve not watched any, start in like 2015 and binge watch some old ones and then check out new ones too with his new revamped “368” vlogs. HIGH LARIOUS, (long time South Florida 2nd home owner here, have been going down to Marco Island and Naples since I was seven, I don’t get down as much as I used to now that both my parents have passed away and there’s no more fishing/boating, ya know, the fun stuff that makes us Northern New Englander’s want to be Floridians so badly.

        LOVE your writings, all of them, think the Love Boat one was my favorite tho – have read EVERY.ONE. Thank you for this wonderful distraction from my every day.You’re an inspiration to every ONE of us that was once a dumb twenty something letting men suck off of our kindness and taking it for weakness. F the Stock Market, it’s MEN that have blown out every one of MY 401K’s!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thanks so much for reading! Writing is my favorite therapy. 😁 It’s certainly the least expensive one, anyway! I have so much fun doing it, even when it’s tough.

        I’ll check out Casey’s blogs – sounds right up my alley. Thanks for the recommendation! Hope you can escape to Marco Island and Naples during the winter for some of this FL weather. We’re having a “cold front” now, so it was 70 degrees yesterday. 🤣


  1. I was thinking of telling you how much I liked this post and how funny it is but then I got scared that you might take it the wrong way and say something awful about me but now I realize you’d do that quietly from far away except a blog is kind of indirect so maybe that doesn’t count as confrontation, so, ummmm….hey! GREAT SHOES!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I hit send before I finished my reply. In any case, it sounds like we could be sisters to be honest. I have a t-shirt that says (in front) Rehab is for Quitters and on the back it has the red dress quote from Moonstruck! I also have one that says if I don’t like you enough I will stab you in the neck with a pencil and watch you bleed to death. I have that type of personality, you know that type where we could so be a hit-woman for the Mob if it wasn’t for our fear of going to jail or in your case your anxiety of being around people. Lmao

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Exactly! Sometimes I try to use the Jedi mind-trick like Darth Vader and incapacitate my various nemeses so I don’t have to interact with them directly, but it doesn’t seem to be working yet. They just keep on living and breathing, much to my chagrin.

        I’m all for all Moonstruck quotes, all the time. I freaking LOVE that movie! “I lost my hand! I lost my bride! Nicolas Cage is a mad genius.

        And I am extremely envious of your t-shirt collection. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Moonstruck has to be the best movie to quote, and I agree Nicholas Cage is a mad genius! I like the quote from Cher’s mom, Olympia Dukakis “Your lifes going down the toilet!” Which is pretty much how I feel at least once a day. I have tried that Darth Vader move as well and no it doesn’t work, I suppose the force isn’t with us, ugh stupid Force what good is it if you can’t just wish your nemesis (nemisi? plural if you have more than one? because I have a shitload) dead when you want them to be? I’ll tell you what, I’d rather have Magneto’s powers from the X-Men, do you know how many peeps I’d crush on the way to work? Yeah, that’s totes me…

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I have one main Nemesis at the moment, with a handful of Associate Nemeses on deck. The main one gets the majority of my attempts at The Force!

        Another Olympia favorite of mine is, “What you don’t know about women is a lot.”

        Liked by 1 person

      4. She’s brill, especially when she tells her husband “Cosmo, no matter what you do, your gonna die just like everybody else” I mean hell-the-fuck-o?! So what do you consider “big” feet? Like what size is considered big for you? lol

        Liked by 1 person

      5. WAIT ONE MOMENT! I’m 5’4 and I wear a size 9 and I don’t think I have big feet, and I’ve never been told that I do……therefore you don’t have swim fins at the end of your pipes girly! It’s the norm for women our height. So you see your more normal than you think.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. The only Chad I ever worked with was a complete ratdick. Also, my dad used to make fun of how big my feet were by saying, “Do those shoes come with paddles?” which is such a nice thing to say. I got him back by going to university and making more money than he ever did (I don’t like confrontation either).

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I just lost it on “ratdick”. This is probably the first time I’ve ever uttered that particular sentence, so congratulations. Your work is admirable!

      I like your style, sticking it to the man. I get my big feet from my father, so he’s never made mention of them. At least not to my face, anyway. He’s probably writing a secret blog about me right now called Sasquatch Sally.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Being a fellow Big Foot in Fabulous Shoes, I wonder how people with small feet can stand up. How do they not simply topple over? How can those tiny size 8’s keep them balanced when the planet is spinning at the speed of light like an out of control top? (Obviously I have no clue how the planet actually works.) Oh, by the way, is the fact you cant be photographed less your pasty whiteness or are you pasty white because you are possibly a vampire? Stay amazing and if no one says it-those shoes look awesome on your huge feet! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Tiny feet seem like a hazard to me, too. There’s a reason the Eiffel Tower is bigger at the bottom than it is at the top, right?

      This is also my excuse for having a large ass. It’s about safety!

      Liked by 3 people

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