She Bein’ a Drama Queen

Last week at the Garden, I had a conversation with some people about our preferred grocery stores. Actually, I kind of butted in on someone else’s conversation, but it involved more than two people already and they mentioned a store that I avoid like the herpes (which is to say that I avoid it successfully). If it’s not the constant police presence in the parking lot, it’s the asshole customers. If it’s not the asshole customers, it’s the sloooooooow and lazily resentful checkers. Plus it’s always dirty, plus their beer selection sucks, plus I have enough problems going out in public without going to the ghetto store where everyone is openly hostile to the white girl with glasses.

It’s just an awful place to spend any time, although most people seem to just wander in off the street without any sort of agenda, so hey, what do I know?

I go to the grocery store that is equidistant from my house in the opposite direction. While it can be kind of trashy sometimes, overall it’s a tolerable store where I can usually get my shopping done and leave without fantasizing about riding a horse through the aisles whilst swinging a broadsword. (In my revenge fantasies, I get fucking medieval.) But like I said, it can be trashy sometimes, which is to be expected since let’s not forget that we’re in South City.

As I returned my cart to the corral this afternoon, I heard some woman yelling the words “drama queen” over and over again. I didn’t turn to look at first, because I figured this was just one of my neighbors having a conversation at her normal volume. But as I walked back to my car, I turned my head to the next row and saw a woman pushing a cart with a little girl in the front. The girl was probably 3 or 4 and had the hugest, poofiest, most awesomest afro puffs I have ever seen and appeared bewildered by her accuser, who was looking at the girl and yelling


repeatedly. The little girl was silent throughout this entire scene, so in addition to being wrongly accused by a woman who I assume was her own mother, she was also being taught a very backwards-ass lesson in not being a drama queen.

Look, I know that I have volume problems. I don’t come from a large family but I do come from a loud one, and if you want to be heard on any given night over my dad’s yelling and the TV and a million large dogs, you have to raise your voice. I don’t always know that I’m speaking so loudly, but I do honestly try to keep it down in public. I would never yell at someone in a grocery store parking lot in the middle of the day, certainly not when that someone was a child and certainly certainly not when I was ostensibly teaching them how not to be a drama queen. Although this is where the ghetto grocery store would have come in handy, because I bet some other customer would have yelled something like “BITCH, WHERE YOU THINK SHE LEARN THAT SHIT?” and then it would have been on.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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1 Response to She Bein’ a Drama Queen

  1. secretsouttamyhead says:

    That may or may not have been the ghetto version of Allie and me… Mother of the Year… right here. No, seriously, we’re just loud with each other. When we’re at school/work (her school, my work), she will be shouting at her friends who are across the playground, at which point I will shout back at her that she doesn’t have to yell and she should go over and talk to them. Then I will turn to a coworker and say, “I don’t know why she does that…” I really did that one day. GENIUS Mother of the Year.

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