Mama Dot

There was a time when Buddha wasn't with us. Some days...it seems like centuries ago. (That kid's developed a mouth like his mother. Woe is me. Really.)

When Buddha wasn't around, the Pack Mule and I would go to the dreaded IHOP for a late-night feeding frenzy after he finished up at work. It was a regular hang-out for us because he was still working in restaurants which meant that nothing was open when he was finally cut loose each night. I would skip dinner, grade papers, work (ahem...fuck around) on the internet, and otherwise wait for him to be done. He'd run by our place, pick up my large ass, and drive over to IHOP.

And the culture of IHOP. Holy shyte. For reals. (We'll save such introspection for another post. I am a people-watching whore and will admit it to anyone who queries.)

We were heading that way when a car cut us off in the parking lot. Really? Lady? 2am and you think you're gonna have a problem with parking? Go right ahead. Jackass.

Jackass was immediately referred to as Mama Dot because that's what her fucking license plate read. Really. Again? (I need a Really button I can just point to when I'm out. I'm almost tired of uttering the phrase as of late.)

Justice was ripe and at work in the world that fine early fucking morning when all I wanted was a steaming plate of Harvest Nut and Grain pancakes with tons of butter and hot-ass syrup. (Now's a good time to share my sorrow. I will no longer be able to indulge in that fine fare as I cannot even consider consuming anything with nuts or seeds. Or seed pockety things - ya know, like popcorn. Diverticulitis has struck with a fucking vengeance. Again. That's another post.)

Back on track, ADHD Mouth.

Mama Dot was evidently racing for a front parking spot. Like me, she was not a waif and could have stood to park a few lanes away to add a few steps to her Richard Simmon's pedometer. But nooooooo. She had to get selfish and absorbed in her likely-ordered Chicken Fried Steak and Eggs.

Bitch shoulda held back. Really. (Not a question here. Just a statement.)

Cause her vanity-plated minivan that almost plowed into my Pack Mule's truck rear-ended someone right in front of the huge windows of IHOP.

The Pack Mule and I noshed at the feed trough while Mama Dot dealt with the cops and the rear-ended one.

As someone I know mentioned recently, irony - it's what for breakfast.