Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in STFU Friday | Posted on 17-06-2010

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YO! Respect the top! NO means NO!!!!!


**Yo, attention my muffity muffintoppers….snarkity, snark, snark…this has been one HA-ELL of a week. I’ve been under the weather–still fighting to get my voice back. Can you even imagine how all kinds of crazy I am gasping to speak? I have to say, someone, somewhere is trying to shove a big ass super sizes STFU sammie down MY throat. Point is, I’ve got nothin’. Yeah, that’s right, nothin’ .(‘Cept my Robitussin with Codeine…wheeee! Good night!) Nothin’ left to give, nothin’ left to say….it’s been a WEEK! (Not to mention, I am using all available remaining energy to screech like a Marlboro red smoker at the tv for the Celtics game! Kobeyousonnofahhhbittchh!!!) As such, and because I have a lot of fun new readers (Hoo-ray!), I am re-running my first ever STFU Friday sammie post. With….the sincere and fervent reminder, that I am SO ready, willing, and waiting on the edge of my seat to hear YOUR STFU tales, should you wish to share on this very blog. Bring it, muffintoppers!  

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

Have you ever witnessed someone behaving SO badly, you just want to get all up in their grill and blast, “STFU!”

Me too.

When someone is just a wrongity mess of wrongness, it’s so tempting to open up a can of STFU on their ass. Problem is, if you’re like me, you might have children with you. It’s generally bad form to yell and/or swear in front of little kids. Fine. Or at all. It can be SOOOO tough to bite your (and by your, I mean my) tongue, so it’s usually a better idea to take the high road and walk away than make a spectacle of yourself and further engage with a nitwit, right? There are too many people who walk among us who are cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. There are yahoos who, at this very moment, are a half step away from getting their assault and battery on. (Oh, I watch the news.) You don’t know WHAT someone might be capable of. Ever hear that saying, “Don’t poke a tiger with a stick?” Em, yeah. In a world where thirtysomething hausfraus risk certain death by surburban stampede for 60% off Cuisinart on Black Fridays at dawn, none of us are safe.

So what’s a nice girl (or guy) to do to unleash her frustrations? When you play the good girl and you get burned, where is your recourse? Where can you exact revenge, air your grievances, get your snark on without fear of reprisal/beatdown/untimely death? 

Introducing…… STFU Friday!

Every Friday, I will post a short rant about who I think deserves the STFU Sammie Award for the week. (Yes, I’m ser-i-ous. What about this sounds like I’m kidding? Are you in or not? Don’t be getting all goody two shoes on me–I’m a nice girl. I am! This is a last resort. Think of it as a public service!) You want in? I’m deee-lighted to take nominations from you, my petulant partners in pouting, my awesome accomplices and abettors, every week at Admit it. You know you want to join in on the fun. Because being right never felt so wrong! I mean, right. I mean, um, right in a wrong, naughty way. I mean naughty in a I’manerdthisisasbadasIget kinda way not an adult naughty kinda way. THIS BLOG IS PG-13. OMG.

Just….stfu muffintopmommy! Let’s do this thing!


The sales clerk at Kohl’s is disarming.

She’s straight out of central casting with her ashy bob, big old glasses with the stringy things dangling, hip length cardigan over Little House on the Prairie skirt, turtleneck—the whole shebang screams quilting bee or grandma, circa 1984.

So when she participates in the light banter, “Hi, how are you, yada, yada, nice day, blabbity blah…” BAM! You don’t even see it coming.

“Do you have a Kohl’s charge, dear?’

Oh crikey, here we go. They ALL do it. Sears, Kohl’s, even my beloved Tarjay. You know the drill. They try to get you to open up one of their credit cards.

I’ve worked my fair share of retail jobs in the past and the masses are ASSES so I’m always polite. I know the boss man is making them tow the line on the ccard spiel and for a minute, I feel badly grandma is having to pitch the plastic.

“No, no I don’t.” (Sighs inside.)

“Well, GREAT NEWS!!! If you open one up TO-DAY you can save 10% on your order!” Whoa! That was some burst of energy, grandma. She must be spiking her Earl Grey with Red Bull. Damn.

“No, I don’t think so, thank you anyway.”

“Are you SURE? Don’t you want to save 10% TODAY!? You’d be missing out on a great opportunity!” Whoa. She’s borderline cell phone mall kiosk right now. I start to shuffle in place a little.

“I’d love to save 10% today, or, let’s see, roughly $4.55, but I know ultimately I’ll spend more if I open the card.” Yo, I’m no MIT grad, but I know 22 bazillion percent interest wipes out $4.50 pretty damn fast.

“Well, if you open one TODAY, you will get more opportunities to save throughout the year in the form of coupon mailers!” Scratch mall kiosk. She’s got Xerox copy salesperson written all over her. Quilting bee my ass. Granny’s a ringer.

“That sounds wonderful, but I don’t think so. I know I’ll forget the coupon, sit on the coupon, someone will crayon on the coupon, wipe their nose with the coupon, and I’ll never use the coupon. Meanwhile, I’ll be paying 22 bazillion percent interest on my $45 dollar–no sorry, with my 10% off, $40 purchase. And that, to me, is some fuzzy ass math!”  I just said ASS to grandma. Hold the phone. This is getting oogly.

Now it’s on. I’m trying to be polite because I’m all “respect your elders”, but I JUST wanna get my Sonoma on and go. When will she stop? When? NO MEANS NO! Context clues, grandmother. My body language is screaming ants in my pants. Meanwhile, my moments of glorious freedom sans kids are slipping away as I’m engaged in verbal tug of war. She must be into the Bingo hall for some serious cabbage because I see no clear escape route.

Momentarily, I consider screaming, “Uncle!” and signing up for the stinking credit card. I’m starting to feel like I’m on Dateline. I can hear Chris Hansen’s melodic voice, as the camera pans over a vile third world prison, telling the sad tale of the asshat American tourist who does something stunningly stupid in a foreign land, and under duress after hours of intense questioning by unscrupulous foreign authorities, signs something that says he committed atrocities. Or in this case, a high interest rate store credit card application.

But wait! Then I remember the frosted hair and the big, toothy grin and the finger wag. Suze Orman! On the Today Show last week! She said NOT to EVER open one of these because it will lower my FICO score and what if I want to get a new mortgage or open a small business this month!?

“NO! Ma’am, I’m sorry, but no. And I’ve really got to be going. I have a meeting with my parole officer!” Yeah! The kid is back!

“Well, all-righty then, I just wanted to help save you some money today, ma’am.” Like hell corporate shill. I bet you work for Amway on the side!

And Ma’am. The final straw. The old bat called ME ma’am.

So Betty, Mildred, Bea, whatever your alias is, YOU get the first ever, STFU Sammie award!! Respect the top. NO MEANS NO!