Monday Judgements and Warnings

Just because your name is Sara and you spell it Cerraeh does not mean you will be able to get away with making small talk about kale forever.

Even if you give a mini lecture about lemon verbena in order to cause a distraction so you can cut in front of a confused elderly person and no one else but me, The Unhip Judger, sees you.

Eventually something will happen to out you as the selfish poop butt you are because after you wiggle in front of the old lady waiting in line to buy whole milk and you swoosh in with your nine million items while carrying on about the injustice of "bad cotton" and you think you've done it---you've gotten away without being exposed---the checker will ask you to clarify the spelling of your name and you will say:

Sara.  C-E-R-R-A-E-H.

And shoppers within miles will shake their heads in disbelief and think OK now, come ON---THAT is going a bit too far.

And you'll laugh nervously sensing the quick and serious dissension in your midst and you'll try to connect with Whole Milk Old Lady to no avail and then scurry on out to your Prius making sure not to trip on your silky moo moo.

Stop the madness,
Pat Plain