If your kid is hungry, take him to McDonald's- don't whip out your boob in the middle of Party City.

I took this Multicultural Counseling class last spring at The University of Memphis where I had to read a book called It's the Little Things: Everyday Interactions That Anger, Annoy, and Divide the Races. Now, this book pissed me off a great deal because there was a lot of racist stuff in it, but at the same time, I'm realizing just how much I got out of it, because I've thought of it several times since I read it. Also, it wasn't your typical text book full of stats, so I actually read the book as opposed to skimming the highlighted terms and reading the end-of-chapter summaries. One thing that the author touched on in this book was how white people do not discipline their kids. This made me mad, because my parents were so hard on me and my sisters that we have seizures at the sight of a wooden spoon (My mom used to carry a wooden spoon around in her purse and she'd beat the crap out of us with it when we were bad. Actually, this is a complete exaggeration. She never even really had to use it on me because I was always a good kid. She used it on my other sisters, though.). The point is, we were well behaved kids because my parents disciplined us and backed up their threats with action. There was never this "I'll give you a time-out when your daddy gets home" b.s. You know what I mean. Those moms who make these stupid threats and then they never follow through. Well, I can't relate.

I was in line at Party City the other day buying some accessories for my Halloween costume. First of all, the drive to Party City was a complete nightmare for various reasons. Construction kept traffic at a crawl, people were driving like nut cases, there was nowhere to park, etc. Upon my arrival, I see 600 people crammed into this Party City in the hood, and we were all pushing past each other trying to get the last vial of fake blood or the last pair of fishnet hose or what have you. So I'm standing in line with my TWO freaking items, and there are about 20 people in front of me. The line wrapped all the way to the back of the store. I'm standing there with a bunch of slutty hairdressers who are buying hooker apparel for their Halloween costumes and I'm listening them prank call their friends at the salon and asking them stupid questions like,

"Do you do men's butt waxing?"

It was stupid. Anyway, this lady comes up right behind me with her horrible 3-year-old-ish son and her screaming baby. If there's one thing that completely turns me off to the idea of procreation, it's a screaming baby. I have no feelings of sympathy. I just want to take a bottle of Paxil and put in some ear plugs. I just can't handle it. Drives me nuts. I have no mothering feelings when it comes to that high pitched wail. So this mom is a complete ding-dong head, and her horrible toddler from Hell is running all over the store, tearing plastic wrappers off of Halloween costumes and throwing them on the floor. She also put him in charge of pushing the basket. Way to go, Mom. Way to use your noodle. This little Hellian starts bumping me in the butt with the basket. The mom sweet talks to her little crap kid,

"Awwww, honey. Don't push the gir... Oops, I mean.. Lady, with the basket!"

She says this in a baby talk voice. That irritates the ever living crap out of me, too. I feel like people who talk down to their kids pretty much destine their kids to be complete idiots. If you talk to people like HUMAN BEINGS, you will get human behavior. If you talk to kids like little tard pockets, you will get stupid, tard pocket behavior. It's just common sense.

I just about turned around and ripped his obnoxious little head off, but I refrained.

Next thing you know, monster child grabs some M&M candy dispenser, and repeatedly YELLS at the top of his lungs,

"MOOOOOMMY! I WANT THIS!!! CAN I HAVE IT?! BUT I WANT IT! CAN I HAVE IT?"

So, mother with the IQ of an eggplant says to him,

"Is that what you want more than anything in the whoooooooole wide world, sweetheart?"

An emphatic "YES YES YES!" follows.

She puts it in the basket.

This lady needed to be euthanized.

So as the baby is screaming its head off, and I'm picking at my hangnails and biting the insides of my mouth to try and keep from punt kicking the psycho family out into the Party City parking lot, the lady proceeds to abandon her ragamuffin toddler alone with the basket, sits down on a Halloween display (I think a plastic tombstone), and PULLS OUT HER BOOB.

No joke.

Yanked that thing right out of its holster.

Now, where I come from, if women are in an emergency situation for breast feeding, they at least have a little nursing blanket or something to keep themselves polite and private.

This lady had her baby all up on her teet while her toddler ran wild. In front of everyone. This was NOT okay.

All of a sudden I remembered that line about how white people don't discipline their kids. It made sense to me. I wanted to beat the living daylights out of this complete white trash mother, her horrible toddler, and then I wanted to set fire to Party City. And this is why I need anger management.

So, moving right along.

The other day I went to Trader Joe's because I was having ice cream withdrawal. They didn't have ice cream. They had soy cream. Are you effing kidding me? I bought it because I was desperate enough. It tastes like sawdust and chocolate sprinkles. I'm trying to get used to it. I've been doing cardio for an hour a day every day, so I seem to justify the late night pizza binges and dates with Ben & Jerry. I have to stop this, though. Blah. Just because I have a regular exercise routine doesn't mean that I can eat burritos at 1 AM.

I also had another "L.A." experience when i cashed in a free coupon for "Hollywood Tans." I go to this ridiculously state-of-the-art tanning salon where I had to have my fingerprint scanned in order to "ensure that I am the only person with access to my tans." What the crap? People steal tans? That is retarded. I am not quite vain or rich enough to invest in tanning, but midterms gave me a nice 8th grade spread of zits, so I figured I'd use my free week to clear up. I look like the "Before" picture in a "Proactiv" commercial. That will change soon though, as I bake my ovaries into oblivion.

I went to the 99 cent store the other day to buy some basic stupid stuff. There was this man there who was absolutely livid that his cashier charged him an extra dollar for one of his cleaning products. He started out nicely annoyed, which was okay. Then he proceeded to yell at her and talk to her like she was retarded because she was Asian and clearly didn't speak English well and she had no idea how to clear up the mistake. IT WAS ONE FREAKING DOLLAR. I know that our economy sucks, but shoot. Is it worth having a massive coronary at the dollar store over one dollar? Is it worth assaulting a woman who barely speaks English over A DOLLAR?! People out here are nuts. Our dollar is worth like negative cents now, anyway. I wanted to give him a dollar just to shut the crap up.

I had my own crazy 99-cent-store-man experience the other day. I'm just more subdued when I get pissed off. I had to wait at the doctor's office at LMU for an hour past my appointment. I was pissed. The thing is, if you show up 10 minutes late for your apt., you get charged 25 bucks. Instead of yelling at them, though, I just wrote them a comment card that said:

"My time is just as valuable as yours. If you're going to charge me 25 bucks if I'm late, the least you can do is give me 25 bucks for being a freaking hour late." That irritates the crap out of me. Punctuality is a big thing in my world. It probably shouldn't be, but it is.

Last night my friend Robin and I had an incredibly weird night. We met a bunch of crazy people and wound up hanging out with a small clan of ultimate fighter heavyweight boxer men. They were a-holes. We ditched 'em after about 10 minutes. They were these huge, bulging, incredible hulk-esque guys. In my Lifespan Human Development class that I took last fall, I remember our professor telling us that early maturing males are often more aggressive, more prone to be bullies, etc. These guys seemed like they all went through puberty at like age seven. I think that will be one of my new official screening questions for boys who want to take me out. If they went through puberty before the age of 18, I'll just tell them I'm busy.