Mz. Mannerz: I Am Fine If We Pretend We Don’t See Each Other

I’ve decided to start a regular-ish thing called “Mz. Mannerz.”  It will feature exciting content about how we can all be less of a jerkass in our daily lives.  Dissenting opinions will be printed out, put through a shredder, and used to line the cage of an angry rabbit that I have not yet acquired named “Dr. Stabbers”.  This is a dictatorship and will be governed accordingly.

Here’s the first installment!  Try to control yourself.

So there’s this person I don’t like.  He is my current Nemesis (I keep a rotating cast of enemies a la Nixon).  What he did to gain that ranking isn’t important, just know that he totally sucks and is completely outer limits rude and disrespectful, and if you had the misfortune of ever meeting him in person, I have zero doubt that you would agree that he is a universal double turdburger with cheese.

The thing that drives me the most insane about Nemesis, is that even though we do not get along AT ALL, he feels the need to barge up to me any time he sees me at a restaurant, a concert, even just walking down the street, to wave frantically and say hello to me.

And touch me.

Did I mention the touching?

I have watched in slow-motion horror as he’s sprinted across a city block to flag me down and touch me.

Ohh well, you see, even though I have instructed Nemesis on no less than five occasions, in no uncertain terms and with a look of death on my very married face, that he is NOT to touch me, there he is.  Touching me.  You would think that my glaring at his hand and through gritted teeth saying, “Do NOT touch me.” would do it, but nope!  Apparently, Nemesis feels completely entitled to touch me even though I could not be more clear that it is not okay to touch me.  WHO DOES THAT?

Also?  I am not “ha-ha don’t touch me” laughing when I say this to Nemesis.  There are no mixed signals here.  I am openly hostile to him.  When he approaches me, I take this particular stance.  NOT THAT HE CARES.

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Self-portrait, 2019.

This is to say, Nemesis is very aware that I don’t like him.  The feeling is mutual – I can assure you he doesn’t like me, either.  Yet there I am, trying to run twenty rows back at the movie theater, hoping that he won’t see me when I realize he’s sitting in the fifth row.

Oh, he’ll see me.  He ALWAYS sees me.

Sometimes he yells out my name from across the street and I pretend I don’t hear him.  That’s when he starts sprinting towards me.

Can’t we just pretend that we don’t see each other??

So here’s the thing.  Nemesis is certainly not the first person who has done this to me, and I’m sure you’ve probably had plenty of people do it to you, too.  The person you can’t stand – who knows you can’t stand them – who can’t ever see you out in public and just LET IT GO.

It’s like every ex who feels the need to come up to you and say hello every.single.time they see you in public, even though your relationship was a flaming napalm toilet of shame that ended with you smashing the original tapes of his early recordings with a hammer on your back porch after you found out he never stopped cheating on you from the first day you started dating until the last, routinely stole money from your purse, and went to Ireland for a month and came back with a permanent Irish accent and started calling french fries “chips” even though he was from Colorado.

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Fairy godmother.

Oh man, did that guy have it coming.  Trust me.  This was the same guy who gave me a secondhand rock for Christmas.

“Well, I saw you from the other side of the club…”

Then stay on that side of the club!

Now you’ve just made it awkward for both of us!  Yes, I saw you when I came in, and I am totally okay with neither of us acknowledging each other’s existence.  I am so, so 100% willing to pretend I didn’t see you.  I am so, so 100% okay with you pretending you didn’t see me.  Let’s pretend to not see each other together!

“I figured we could act like adults and at least say hello when we see each other.”

No thanks!  I’d really, really, mega prefer that we behave like pissy teenagers who pretend the other person no longer exists!  I’m fine with that.  Please, by all means, let’s not act like adults!  Acting like adults is highly overrated!

So!  To summarize:

  • Don’t ever, ever touch anyone who has told you that it’s not okay to touch them.
  • If you’re not actually friends with someone, feel free to just leave them alone when you see them enjoying a nice dinner out.
  • Just because you dated someone ten years ago doesn’t mean you have to chase them down to say hello, especially if the reason your relationship ended was because you were a nuclear asshole.  Let it go and let that other person live their goddamned life.

Sincerely,

Mz. Mannerz

Are You There, Sog?  It’s Me, Margaret.

I was getting a gel manicure the other day because I’m a fancy lady who’s got what it takes and knows how to use it, and the nail technician and I were chatting it up and getting along great…

…riiight up until she said the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

And please bear in mind I have actually heard the sound of my own body being hit by a Cadillac Fleetwood at high speed.

“The french fries at Burger Fi are gross.  I only like fries that are soggy.”

I couldn’t tell you what the remainder of our conversation was about, or if she was still sitting across from me after that and hadn’t been replaced by a Teddy Ruxpin, or if I was still alive in the “alive” sense of the word and hadn’t slipped into some kind of parallel universe in The Expanse, because a hive of bees immediately took up residence in my brain, swarming electric with repeated stings of:

“I only like fries that are soggy.”

“I only like fries that are soggy.”

“I only like fries that are soggy.”

Who the Yoda-Hoda-Frickin-Kotb likes soggy fries??!  What is that?!  What are you – some carnival sideshow act who’s still hooked up to the placenta?!  Raised in a shack in 1890 where actual dirt-clod mud pies were the cuisine de rigueur?!

And YES I had to look up the spelling of de rigueur!  What of it?  I don’t speak French!  I speak either (i) English, or (ii) “I’ll have the bistec de pollo empanizado.”

Because I live in Florida and CUBAN FOOD.

If you like your fries soggy and feel the need to besmirch respectable eating establishments’ reputations over it, then you need to just stop.  You’re sullying up french fry reviews with your wildly inaccurate, ill-informed and, quite frankly, self-involved one-star ratings.  Go find somewhere that serves boiled potato planks and give them your five-star review, you weirdo nut-job freak-show scrabble butt-cake.

There is only one reason you don’t like Burger Fi’s fries and it’s because you don’t like fries that are properly cooked.  That’s not on Burger Fi.  That’s on you!

Well, everyone is entitled to their personal preferences…

NO THEY’RE NOT.  YOUR SOGGY FRENCH FRY PREFERENCE IS OBJECTIVELY WRONG.

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Let’s look at the examples provided below for comparison on how hideously, horrendously wrong you are about this.  Please, by all means, feel free to argue with me – and I will shut you down like a DDT factory in 1972, take you down like Christmas lights in January, and bury you like all of my repressed emotions since birth.

“I didn’t like this pizza because it was hot and the cheese was melted.  I only like pizza that’s cold and has frozen shreds of mozzarella stuck to the pizza sauce like Ed Begley Jr’s facial hair stuck to an Elmo doll.  “Best Pizza”?  More like “Worst Worzza”!  One star!  I won’t be returning!”

“I really prefer for my chocolate chip cookies to be smashed and burned black beyond recognition, and was instead served some sort of golden brown disc-shaped thing with visible melted chocolate pieces in it!  Gross!  One star, Mrs. Fields Cookies!”

“A sedan with four doors?  Why don’t you stick it up your flying buttress, Toyota!  I prefer for my sedans to be motorcycles with a ventriloquist dummy in the sidecar that looks like Maurice from the 90s sleeper hit television show “Northern Exposure”!  I’ve got a thing for old men in bomber jackets, Toyota, and I would think that you, of all companies, would know that!  ONE STAR!  I WISH I COULD GIVE ZERO STARS!”

I swear to god if I have to start doing my own nails to avoid this existential crisis from ever happening again, I will make you soggy fry-eaters pay.  I can’t even look at my beautiful glittery gel manicure right now without wanting to just burn the whole world down.

Which would be a real shame because I like my world SOGGY.

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“…a complete…and total…barf-o-rama.” – Gordie Lachance, “Stand By Me”