When Claws Come Out:
A popular girl's nightmare. I venture out to the Bourbon Pub alone Saturday night. I was without my clique, but I was fine really. Sporting a tight fitting shirt and a Boston Red Sox ball cap, I walked around the bar in typical swagger.
I didn't see any cool people to hang with. I do see two individuals from the Misfit Gang. Hey, it's charity work... I'll brighten their night by my mere presence. I say,"Hi, guys!" with my legendary warm smile. I was greeted with giggles.
I was taken aback. Why are they giggling? Don't they know who I am? They go back to their conversation oblivious to the sparkling magnificence in front of them. Hmpfh!
I politely wait for them to finish talking. "How long have y'all been out?" They give me a look like, "Oh... the popular girl is trying to talk to us again!" They start giggling again. I began to get really pissed.
They excuse themselves under the pretense of needing another drink. I watch them order a drink and head straight out the door. I am left stunned with an open mouth.
Brows furrow, teeth grind and fists clench. I am now in MEGA BITCH mode. I screech, "You miscreants are lucky I lowered my station to talk to you!!! That's the last time I try and elevate someones social standing!!"
No one hears my outburst over the thumping music. No one cares. Everybody is selfishly dealing with their own damn issues.
(Thankfully, I was lovingly coddled by my posse the very next day)