Have you ever had someone say something to you or observed someone doing something near you that was so
stupid ridiculous that you immediately thought of Bill Engvall’s popular phrase, “Heeeeere’s your sign” ? Then, immediately, you had to deal with the tortuous challenge of *not* saying it to the person. Seriously. It’s like a mosquito bite; it itches sooooo badly.
You have the perfect thing to say… but you know you shouldn’t say it. You think it! You shout it out loud!!… but only in your head. What a relief it would be to release those three little words, “Heeeeere’s your sign!” But, instead, you clench your jaw shut.
If you’re lucky, you don’t bite your tongue in the process.
I’ve now come up with another phrase for certain, equally irritating (if not more irritating) folks. My new phrase? “Heeeeere’s your bag!”
Out on a dog walk yesterday, it occurred to me that I’m becoming a bag lady. I keep stashes of doggy bags everywhere now. Not restaurant leftover-food bags, but actual doggy bags, the perfumed little blue baggies for the other end of things. I usually have two or three in my jacket pocket and at least one in the back pocket of my jeans, at all times. I have an irrational fear of being caught somewhere, without a baggie, and, heaven help me, my dog poops in plain view of the entire world. Or, not in view of anyone but me. Either way. A doggy bag is a moral imperative… the ‘please pick up’ signs say so! Well, this particular illogical fear is actually one of the more humorous entries in the irrational fear section of my brain. And I’m pretty sure it’s cross referenced under compulsiveness, juuuust to be safe.
Anyway, I got to thinking yesterday about what an efficient system the doggy bag set up is.. and then…lookout!…the brain really kicked in. I’ll share the train of thought:
Why not people bags? Can we all agree that there are actually people who need bags? So why aren’t there poopy people bags? Pardon my playground vernacular. But the point remains. Why aren’t there bags for people?
We, the innocent bystanders, could hand them out, as needed. You know the kind of people I’m talking about. These people walk around life, off leash, freely cra…defecating all over everything. If they adhered to the “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” rule, then they’d never open their mouths. They expect the worst in people. They rain on every parade; they prolong every meeting they attend, arguing or pontificating. If a miracle happened and they smiled, their face would crack. They not only view their glass as half empty, instead of half full, but it must be a dirty, foul smelling glass, to boot.
The next time I’m stuck working with, standing in line with, or seated in a restaurant next to one of these constantly complaining, contaminating people, I think I’ll calmly walk up and say, “Heeeeere’s your bag!”
I’ll flip them my badge and explain that I’m a member of the new DEFCON Department. Previously, DefCon stood for “defense readiness condition” and was an alert system developed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. (joint being capitalized in this usage☺).
But in my new world order, DEFCON Dept stands for Defecation Containment.
And I am now a deputized, bag-toting member in good standing.