Whorebitch at the Skate Lesson

Chooch had another skating lesson Saturday evening. It’s really fun to be at the rink during non-session hours, mostly because there are so few people there and you would think it would lower the odds of me finding an asshole to hate, when instead it does quite the opposite; the absence of a crowd only makes it easier for me to single out the dickheads.

We weren’t even out of the car yet when a trio of pre-teen girls ran past us and drenched our ear drums in their shrill giggles. I recoiled, then seethed, then declared my hatred for them.

“Why,” asked Henry’s mom, who tagged along to play Chooch Cheerleader. “Do you know them?”

“I don’t need to know them,” I grumbled, making her laugh nervously. It’s been eleven years, but she is still learning about me.

However, it only took me ten minutes once inside to completely forget about the Giggle Hookers and set my sights on another young target.

It all started when I got up to pee. I was walking toward Henry, who was coming back from sucking up to the owner, when he was forced to step over the legs of some girl, who was kneeling in the middle of the walkway while lacing one of the Giggle Hooker’s skates.  Earlier, she had been standing in line in front of us with her grandfather, who looked like Punky Brewster’s dad, and she didn’t seem very offensive at all then. Maybe a little smug, but nothing about her attitude really stuck out.

But now that her grandfather wasn’t within earshot, her true cuntitude came shining through.

Right as I was about to walk past her, I heard her scoff indignantly to her friends and spit, “That man just STEPPED OVER TOP OF ME.”

Well, duh, you dumb bitch. How else is going to get around you when you’re practically setting up camp in the middle of the walkway, soar over you on his Winged Ass Pony?

It wasn’t until I reached the bathroom that I became super bothered. That’s my property she was mouthing off about. It’s OK for me to publicly cheesegrate his masculinity, but when someone else makes an attempt, I turn into a snorting bull. (Which isn’t much of a change from my usual demeanor.)

On my way back to our spot on the bench,  she was bragging to her giggly friends about how she’s taking the ADVANCED CLASS when I forced eye contact with her. She flitted her eyes away from mine in a hurry. Arms akimbo, I stormed over to Henry and began waving wildly as I told him and his mom what I had witnessed.

“I was so angry, I punched the mirror in the bathroom, Henry!” I cried, my fists all balled up.

“You did not,” he said calmly.

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I really am angry!” Seriously, cutting myself all because of Henry? Yeah right.

Meanwhile, Henry’s mom was laughing nervously while watching us verbally volley back and forth: Henry recounting the perils and consequences of a 32-year-old woman starting a fight with a 13-year-old; me cutting him off with desperate accusations, such as, “WHY, DO YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF HER?” and “I DON’T CARE IF I GO TO JAIL, IT’S WORTH IT.”

 

Just then, she skated past and looked directly at me.

“SHE JUST FUCKING LOOKED AT ME!” I yelled. Henry’s mom, who was originally on Team You’ll Go To Jail,  laughed and then retorted with, “LOOK AT HER, SHE THINKS SHE’S SO COOL” and “SHE DOESN’T LOOK ADVANCED TO ME!”

Henry threw his hands up and said, “Seriously, mom?” and then stalked away to stand alone by the snack room. Every once in awhile, he would wave at me from his stance on neutral land.

While everyone was lining up to prepare for the lessons, I overheard the Whorebitch say, “I’m gonna have to put some ice on my foot.” She’s gonna have to put some ice on her FACE by the time I’M done with her.

AMIRITE HENRY? AMIRITE?

She fell during her lesson, causing me to crack up, point, and then squeal, “SHE FELL! DID YOU SEE HER FALL??”

Henry’s mom started to laugh, but then realized she was being sucked into my demonic vaccuum and quickly shook off her laughter. “Oh, I don’t want to see anyone get hurt!” she exclaimed.

I guess we’re not on the same page, after all.

In other skating lesson news, this old dude (“He’s not old, he’s probably my age!” Henry corrected. Yeah. And that age is “old.”) was taking the beginner class with his son. It was pretty adorable. He was a hot mess on rollerblades.

Whorebitch’s grandfather. He had on really nice quads and Henry said something about wanting to buy them.

“Why, is he selling them?” I asked.

“Well, no…” Henry started. “But it’s not like he’s going to be needing them much longer.”

I’m hoping he meant because the guy was like, 70 but the way he said it was just so foreboding. Actually, it was kind of hot.

Henry eventually came back to me, even though my big mouth and ability “to make something out of nothing” embarrasses him. I continued to make eye contact with Whorebitch every time she skated near our spot on the bench, though.

The “advanced” skating instructor, moments after he had his hand on his girlfriend’s ass which naturally made me react like a 5-year-old seeing people kissing in public.

OH LOOK WHO IT IS, THE WHOREBITCH.

“Mommy, did you even WATCH me skate?” Chooch knows that my attention tends to veer away from him and latch on to people I either hate or have a crush on.

 

I always forget that I can be recording shit with my phone, so now I am making up for it by recording shit that no one cares about. Look at how emotionally vacant Henry is. :(

If Whorebitch is there next time, I’m going to take lessons too.