Did You Mean To Be So Rude?

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March 14, 2013 by kitcac

You lot wot read this ere blog regular-like might think that I am a bit of a nowty bee.  You might think that I have an attitude.  I really don’t, honestly.

In fact, if you put up with some of the rudeness that I do, you would be slightly angsty in your bloggings too.

Today, someone said something very rude to me.  I told them that they’d said something that was really quite rude and that could be upsetting.  In reply they said something even more rude.

It bugged me.  On the way home, I got to thinking about all the rude stuff that people say that I don’t pick them up on.  There were loads of examples.  Why do I just let them say all that horrid stuff?

I am a long-time lurker on a website where the mantra in response to any sort of nastiness is “Did you mean to be so rude?” and by jingo I am going to start to stop putting up with it all!

In order to test whether you think I am over-reacting to the rudeness, here are a few examples that came to mind this evening (during a mere 20 minute commute):

1.  After giving a lovingly considered hamper:

Its shit.

2.  After giving a not-inexpensive gift of a vintage nature which I had lovingly spruced up:

The box is a bit shit.

(You know who you are… Deirdre)

3.  A few days after having JWop:

I thought that you’d HAD the baby?

(Said at the same time as pointing to my abdomen and pretending to ignore the fact that the baby is in the same room.  This was obviously intended to be hurtful, which is nice. This one still stings when I think about it)

4.  After giving a kid a tenner in pound coins:

I got paper money from everyone else.

(Inside I’m thinking “give me the money back and I’ll spend it on wine”)

5.  After giving a kid a tenner in paper money (learnt my lesson):

I got paper money from everyone else.

(Child was totally disinterested and inside I’m thinking “give me the money back and I’ll spend it on gin because wine won’t hit the spot any more”)

6.  At home, in the afternoon, I am fully dressed and a visitor is just about to leave:

Anyway, I’d better get going now so that you can get out of your pyjamas.

(Looks down and wonders how the outfit I’m wearing could be mistaken for pyjamas, still not sure about that one.  Hmmm, still very confused)

7.  In hospital, baby is a few hours old and midwife tells me to remember to ask for the “little orange tablet”:

Cowbag midwife: Remember to ask the daytime midwives for the little orange tablet, because they’ll forget to give it to you.

(Seriously, did she have no confidence in her colleagues? The big cowbag)

Me: Oh right, what’s it called?

Cowbag:  No need to worry about that, just remember “Little Orange Tablet” (said very slowly, obviously).

Me: I’m ok, I’ll remember, what’s it called?

Cowbag: Well, its very complicated, so remembering “little orange tablet” is probably easier for you.

Me: Really, just tell me.

Cowbag:  Oh ok, but if you forget, its still the little orange tablet.  The name of it is (again said very sloooooowly with a pause for dramatic effect)… Dic-lo-fen-ac.  But if you forget, little orange tablet!

(I fall off the bed at this point because its hardly ethylene dialene tetra-acetic acid, is it?  I can say EDTA but not necessarily spell it, by the way.  DICLOFENAC.  Not easy to remember, is it Cowbag? I will definitely never forget it, dear Cowbag.  And I didn’t say anything to her, to my eternal regret, so she’ll probably talk to other new mums in exactly the same way and make them feel absolutely shit.  This was one of four horrid things she said or WROTE about me.  Cowbag)

8.  At an event where I was driving, so not drinking, but wearing a puffy dress (which is now in the bin):

Person: And KITCAC’s baby’s due soon too, isn’t it?

Me: Er no, that’s not a baby, its just cake.

Person: (insistent, as if I had forgotten my pregnancy) No, you’re pregnant!

Me: Er really, I have HAD the baby.  Ages ago.  This is just cake.

Person:  But I thought someone said you were pregnant?

Me: Yes, I WAS pregnant and I have HAD the baby.

(Considers carrying a copy of the baby’s birth certificate as proof that he is no longer up my jumper).

9.  After asking someone what they might like as a gift:

Give me money so I buy something I actually like.

10.  After someone else what they might like as a gift:

Give me money so I can get something that isn’t small.

11.  After losing all of the baby weight (admittedly, I have never been a beanstalk):

Are you pregnant again or is it the way you’re sitting?  Do you want the phone number for Weight Watchers?

So, dear Reader, that is a total of eleven examples of face-punch-inducing rudeness that I have just sat back and taken without so much as a change of expression on my face.

I appear impervious to it, but I am not.  It isn’t nice behaviour at all, but sometimes wine helps.

In summary, I think that you’ll all agree that I am a saint.

Therefore, I am going to send a tweet to the new Pope asking him to get his head together with the other priest-bosses and come up with some sort of award for me.

There’ll be a party and we’ll have cake and everyone will agree that I am just marvellous for putting up with such beastly behaviour and everyone will buy me Blue Nun wine, because I am the Holy Kitcac.


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