Me: Hey, who is that little girl over there again?Yes, I said this to the mom who I've stood next to in the kindergarten drop off line for oh, just about a year now.
Mom: Um, my daughter.
Then in the classroom I bumped into one of the moms that I really like. She's from the South so that automatically makes me want to be her friend. Plus she's got an uncle that is a psychic medium healer. Sweet right?
Well tonight our husbands got to chat'n. Which is cool because they are both in the field of architecture, sorta. Enough so that they did that odd architect chatter where you can't break in a word edgewise. And terms like "restoration" and "city ordinances" are bandied about.
But after they had left the classroom, the husband popped back in, walked up to me and said "Wait. Are you (pause) Mom O Matic?".
"Yes."
"Oh I follow you on Twitter!", he said and then ran out to catch up with his nice family. And I stood there with every idiotic twitter I've ever written running through my head. Which ones had he read?
Did he catch the one where I talked about how some buttons I found looked like an anus?
Maybe the one where I offered to Twitpic a shot of my "good boob" if hit 2,000 followers?
When I told Orville Redenbocher to fuck off?
Talked about my first time? Mr "Two Pump Chump"?
Perhaps, he caught my recent twitter promoting my friend Jenny's new sex column. The one where she talks about clown porn?
Ah yes. This may slightly interfere with my plans to make his funny, psychic related wife my new BFF.
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