I met someone last week who reminded me so much of someone.

Me.

She reminded me of me.

She didn’t look like me. We definitely had wildly different styles. She didn’t sound like me. I have no idea what kind of music she likes or if she is generally happy or how she votes. But she was still me.

My younger son, Joey, and I met my mom and my little sister in downtown Cincinnati to see an immersive Van Gogh experience.

You guys, I could tell you so much about this exhibit. If you have access to this, fucking go see it. We loved it. Goddamn amazing, trippy, and informative. But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about the woman we met in the bathroom just before we toured the Van Gogh experience.

Baby sister and I were waiting for mom to finish up in the bathroom. We used our time well.

Baby sister: I think I”m taller than you now.

Me:…

BS: I am. I’m taller.

Me: We’re old and probably both shrinking, but I’m still taller than you. I mean, I know you wish that weren’t true, but I’m taller than you.

Important to note: I am 5′ 1′. Baby sister is 5′ even. We are both basically hobbits. Which is fair because we are both weirdly hirsute. 

A woman steps out of a stall and says “Stand back to back.”

So, we did.

Strange woman who we did not know: Yeah, she’s taller.

She was referring to me. Because I’m taller. I’m like a giant. In the shire.

Me: Told you.

Our mom comes out to wash her hands. Martha is the sweetest person on the planet.

Me: Our poor mother has been listening to this for decades.

Martha: I don’t mind. I love them.

So, the woman, who settled the issue of whether or not I am taller than my sister, left the bathroom.

And then she immediately came back in.

Stranger: Look at this! I just carried this roll of toilet paper out.

Me: You are a thief. You should be in our tribe.

Stranger: Do you golf?

Me: what?

Martha: I golf.

Stranger: Once, I walked to my car and realized I still had the pin from the last hole in my hand.

I assume this is a very funny golfer joke because it made my mom laugh really hard.

The woman wore a lovely summer dress and smart shoes. Her hair was just so. We may have been the same age, but if you went by handbags and haircuts? She did a little better in life. But my hair is pretty amazing in it’s purple hue, so…

I had no idea that after we completed our tour of the Van Gogh immersive experience, we would meet up and again. And that I would realize that we might be the same person.

My mom, sister, Joey and I stopped just shy of the gift shop to discuss what we had just experienced when this happened.

Strange woman: Oh, hey! These are my new friends I made in the bathroom.

Then, she tripped over her own feet and stumbled into me. I didn’t fall, but it was a pretty substantial hit.

Me, waving to her friends: Hi! She tried to steal toilet paper and just now tried to tackle me.

Strange woman’s friends: …

Me:…

The strange woman and I shared a brief hug. Her friends may not always get who she is, but I understood her.

They all waved and walked away. Her friends looked back at me as if to say “OMG THERE ARE MORE OF YOU?????”

Of course there are. There are a lot of strangely awkward old women who have pointless arguments in public bathrooms. We say and do nonsensical things. We also trip and fall a lot. These are the people I recognize. These are the people I understand.

I mean, I at least understood the clumsy part.

I made a dessert.

I can’t tell from the video what the dessert is called, so I have named it the $100 dessert.

Because I’m getting paid for this.

Anyway, here is dessert video.

Bananas cooked.

Cake completed. I thought the cake would stick, but it didn’t. I still crumpled it though. My version didn’t look quite the same. But my version rarely does to be honest.

I more than likely would have made this dessert this weekend no matter what. But shit happened. Things transpired. Someone talked a little smack and ensured that there was no way on earth this banana dessert wouldn’t be made.

I will tell you how sure I am of this.

At this moment, it’s Tuesday evening. I have a holding place at the top of this post that says “fill in dessert part”.

I haven’t made the dessert yet. At this point, I have no idea if it will be any good or not. All I know, is unless I die or something catastrophic happens, I will be making this dessert this coming weekend.

Okay, so this is what happened. Randy and I watched the video for this dessert that doesn’t seem to actually have a name, but it looked really good and I said I was going to make it.

Well, Joey happened to be standing in the doorway. He smirked and told me that I wouldn’t make it.

Me: I’m making it.

Joey: Whatever. You’re going to forget.

Me: I’m making the fucking banana dessert.

He started laughing.

Joey: I will bet you $100. that you won’t make that dessert.

Then, he walked away.

What a sucker.

I looked at Randy and said “Does he even know who I am? Seriously?”

It will cost me under 10 bucks in ingredients to make this $100 dollar dessert.

When you read this post, I will have made the dessert and collected my earnings. As long as Joey plans to honor his bet, which he better. We raised him right.

Randy clued Joey in just now and told him he might want to pick up an extra shift at work because there is no way he isn’t going to owe me a hundred bucks.

Randy: She already wrote a blog post about it.

Joey: Whatever, she’s going to forget.

Me: NEVER!

Me: Unless I die or something catastrophic happens, this dessert is happening.

Joey: So….unless you die, right?

I love my family. I love laughing with them. I love it when they have to fork over their hard earned bar tending money.

I’m wondering what I can bet him next weekend. This could be like a part time job or something.

By the way, the cake was just terrible.

I had to spit it out. I don’t know if I left an ingredient out or maybe accidentally cooked it in Satan’s butthole or something. It tasted like chocolate flavored floor cleaner that sucks every bit of moisture from your mouth.

Seriously, I spit it out 20 minutes ago and the taste is gone, but my tongue feels sad. Like I let it down.

Definitely not worth a hundred dollars.

HAHAHAHAHA. Sucker. Nothing about the best said it had to be edible. It just had to be made.

I shouldn’t have to do this, but I am going to do this, because OMFG, people are goddamn edgy right now.

Anyway, I want to make it very clear that I don’t hate old white men. My favorite human on the planet is an old white man. Happy belated birthday to Randy who turned 62 this month. There are many old white men I appreciate and love.

That being said?

I am goddamn sick of old white men.

I’m not saying that old white men just now became horrible, because honestly, they’ve sucked for decades, I’m saying it seems like they’re really acting up these days.

Perhaps, it’s because we’re tired of their shit and they feel the winds of change.

By winds of change, I mean, we’re fucking pissed as fuck.

But I digress.

Last Friday, I went out for lunch by myself. I had a shitty day and needed to walk away from my cubicle because I sincerely wanted to either cry or physically attack someone. And I don’t mean anyone specific. I just wanted to hit something. But who needs assault charges?

I can’t do time. I would never survive in the stripey hole. I’d say it’s because I look bad in orange (because I do) but really, it’s everything else. I am not cut out for prison life. So, you know, going out for lunch was in everyone’s best interest. Mostly mine.

My stomach hurt when I finished eating because I got a double decker cheeseburger and onion rings. After all, I’m nearly 60 and I should fucking know better. But as I said, shitty morning.

I walked to the counter to pay my bill. There was someone at the register paying their bill, so I stood adjacent to them and waited my turn.

Then, an old white dude came in.

I immediately knew that he was not a happy old white dude. His deep, exasperated sigh game was goddamn on point. He crossed his arms and snorted a bit. He was in a goddamn hurry.

I also knew, that as soon as the guy at the registered paid his bill, that the unhappy old white dude was going to step in front of me and place his to go order.

Oh..no….no.

That wasn’t going to happen.

When the guy adjacent to me turned to leave, I made a badass electric slide move to my left to pay my bill.

Angry old white man: Pushy.

I looked over my shoulder.

Me: I’m sorry, are you speaking to me?

AOWD: Yeah, you’re pushy.

Me: Because I’m next in line and you wanted me to let you go before me?

He shrugged and raised his eyebrows in an “of course, you dumb cunt” sort of look. I may be supplying inflammatory meaning, but it’s my blog, so.

Me: I am so sick of people like you.

I paid my bill and turned to leave. As I passed the angry old white man, he said “bitch” under his breath.

So, I flipped him off with both hands and went back to work. Where my stressful day got goddamn worse.

Not gonna lie. It wasn’t a good day. I don’t have a funny end for it. The day just sucked.

But is that my only old white man story? No. No it is not.

The following is paraphrased because I don’t feel like going to Twitter and reading the comments again. It won’t be exact, but it is goddamn close.

I tweeted something about Joe Biden very nearly appointing an anti-abortion federal judge in Kentucky.

This is not acceptable. I mean, I’m glad it didn’t happen, but Kentucky already has a fuckton of issues. They don’t need anti-abortion federal judges. Fuck.

Anyway, some old white dude tweeted back to me that it was a conspiracy theory.

It’s not. Joe Biden was going to appoint Chad Meredith as a federal judge. McConnell supports him. However, Rand Paul objected, so Biden pulled his nomination. This is not a conspiracy theory. This is what fucking happened.

So, I responded that it was not a conspiracy theory. That it was reported on reputable news sites, not crackpot blogs. This is what happened.

Annoying Old White Dude Part Deux: I believe everything I read on twitter.

Me: I don’t understand. Are you saying that you actually believe everything you read on twitter or are you mocking me, even though the story isn’t a conspiracy theory?

AOWDII: I am so proud of you.

Me: okay

AOWDII: Haha, you’re about to lose your shit.

Me: No. I only pointed out that what I said wasn’t a conspiracy theory and you responded with nonsense.

AOWDII: You obviously want to keep this going. If you don’t like what I’m saying, why do you keep responding.

Me: You responded to my tweet, my dude. I get what is happening. I explained, politely, that you were wrong and you just really can’t deal with it. You fragile, candy ass.

AOWDII: You hate men. I can’t decide whether to stop or keep toying with you.

Me: Let me make the choice super easy.

Then I blocked him. Because what the fuck?

It’s easy to make fun of the fragility of old white men, but look at what they are doing.

We have a supreme court justice who screamed and cried in his fucking job interview. You think he might be exacting his revenge now? Because I assure you, Justice PunchableFace McRapeyHands doesn’t two fucks about a fetus.

I’m going to keep begging.

VOTE IN THE MIDTERMS.

Our lives depend on it.

And old white men? Time for you to step aside.