Hookers and the Stink Eye

Lately, I’ve been complaining that my car smells like ass. We’re a one-car household and Donny takes it to work everyday and I’ll use it for my secret shops and merchandising jobs in the afternoon/evenings.

“Jesus Christ, Donny! Why does this car smell like ass.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what are you doing in it?”

“Driving!”

“Driving what? Ass?”

So, one evening we’re all piling into the car to run some errands after Donny had gotten home. Kali is already in the backseat, driver’s side, and Donny is strapping Jack into his carseat in the back passenger side. I open the driver’s side door when I get assaulted by this heavy perfume.

“Mommy, the car doesn’t stink. Daddy did something to it.”

“Yeah, it smells like a hooker. Donny, why does my car smell like a hooker?”

“I picked one up on my way home.”

And Kali busted out laughing, looking at me like, “Well, you asked.”

Note to self: Find out how my daughter knows what a hooker is.

***

Two nights ago, Donny, Jack and I were leaving Walmart when I decided to stop at the McDonald’s near the exit to get Jack some french fries. I had two more errands to run before going home to make dinner, and I wanted something to keep Jack quiet in the car. Of course, there weren’t any fries ready so we had to wait.

I stood off to the side so a lady with two little girls could place her order and Donny walked off to get a Coke from the serve-yourself fountain. The two little girls walked by me to toss something in the trash and then went back to stand next to their Mom. The oldest looked to be about 8 and the other 3 or 4. The oldest starts talking to the Mom and I notice that the youngest is staring at me. Like, really staring at me. Like, really, really staring at me.

And not just any stare. Not like a creepy-little-kid-from-a-horror movie stare or a special-needs stare. Not even like a I’m-a-rude-lil-bastard-with-no-home-training stare.

This little girl was looking at me like she hated me. Like she didn’t want anything to do with me, and furthermore, like it both confused and disgusted her that I was allowed to walk amongst other people.

This little girl was giving me the stinkest of stink eyes.

At first I ignored it. I’d look away and then look back a few seconds later to find her still staring. Then, thinking maybe she was looking past me, I checked over my shoulder, but no one was there. Finally, I couldn’t take it.

“What?” I asked with a smile.

Nothing.

I looked at her mother who was still busy talking to the other girl.

“Awww, come on! What?!”

Nothing.

Donny returns with his drink and Jack.

“Donny, look how that little girl is looking at me.”

Donny looks and nearly chokes on his Coke. At this point, we’re both cracking up with tears running down our faces.

“Oh my God! She won’t stop, Donny!”

“She’s looking at you like, ‘Bitch, you ain’t shit.’”

And she was!

Now that I examine the photo again, it seems her sister wasn’t too fond of me either.

Happy Friday!