Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Don't Ask, Cause I Sure Don't Wanna Tell

One of the very first questions when you meet someone is "So what do you do?" or "What does your husband do?" or something along those lines. I HATE that question. Hate.

Not because I care that people know I'm a SAHM, or that Charley is in the Army. I hate that as soon as people hear that he is Army the follow up question is ALWAYS "Is he deployed?"

Listen up Newbies. I do not want to answer that question. Especially if you are the two repair men that showed up at my house today (did I mention they were 2 hours late because they got lost?)  (And did I mention they were lost because they didn't know the meaning of the word "parallel" and felt to stupid to call me back for clarification?) 

Newbie at the supermarket: Its awesome that you had a neighbor who knew someone who deployed one time, and I am so sorry that you can't seem to remember the name of the base he was stationed at. Oh, and I really am okay with women being in the military. It never crosses my mind that my husband could be cheating on me the entire time he is gone. Its called trust, but thanks for that.

Creepy Neighbor Kid Sporting Man Boobs: Please stop calling me. I do not want to go to a party with you and your 19 year old friends that have all dropped out of the Kentucky public school system. I do not appreciate the rose pictures you text me. I do not want to meet your Momma- I don't really care how much she likes to cook. Why don't I give your number to Charley and let him answer that question. 

I do not want people knowing Charley is gone. Well, I don't care if my B-Dubbers know- but I would rather not share with those I come in contact with here. I don't like knowing that other people in the area know I'm home alone with the kids. It makes me feel all creepy. Especially if they look like the repair guys from today.

This is a new one for me. Charley's last deployment never aroused these feelings. I lived in a Red Neck neighborhood full of nosy people constantly checking out the window to see who was driving down the street; all of whom sported firearms. Its a nice cozy feeling. Safe.

Here I feel like the odd ball cause I am the heavily armed. I had someone tell me they didn't want their kid over at my house because we own guns. Thats a story for a different day, but you get the picture.

And I sure as hell made sure the pistol was loaded as soon as those creepy repair guys left. 

Nothing says confidence like a Lady sporting gun.