Once I see something compelling, or once I have one of my compelling thoughts (that come to me so often if I updated this blog as they came I would blow up the internet), I have to fight off the urge to start a whole new website or blog – why can’t I just keep KayeKillA as a catch-all? This is why one of my goals is to tidy up what they call on Fast Company and Wired my web presence. But it isn’t a habit easily broken. Just today I had two truly great ideas for two different truly great websites.
The first one would be another submission based blog – it would be or WILL BE called “Bugbite or Blemish?” and it will be a comparison kind of blog like “Homeless or Hipster” but on a close-up level. People can send in photos of strange bumps on their skin and the audience will have to determine if the bump is an insect bite or just a blemish (aka: pimple – god dang it - I love the word pimple). This would be stepping outside of my comfort zone because I usually leave gross humor to aspiring comedians and men (usually no diff). But it wouldn’t really be that funny if one of the featured bites was from a cottonmouth or black widow now would it?
The other blog/website would be creative nonfiction reporting of child abuse sightings. Stay with me here, I don’t mean the really really bad kind, I just mean the arm-pulling and back-of-the-head swatting that happens in retail areas. The kind that is uncomfortable enough to make you take note and scary enough to make you stay quiet. Quiet until you get home and take up the mightiest weapon of them all! The PEN! Or in this case – the keyboard:
She didn’t plan on squashing her child in front of me. Otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered putting a cute ball cap on little toddler Timmy and neglecting her own appearance before making her Target run. If you want to look like you know what you are doing when roughing up a kid in public, you should dress in bruncheon-to-business casual and NOT a tie-died t-shirt with terrycloth shorts. Wardrobe is at least 75% of parenting credibility - sense of humor, haircut, and body weight make up the other 45% and this lady was a failure to the nth. Had she hit Timmy on the side of the face while wearing slacks or jeans with pumps, I would have thought the little bugger deserved it. Instead, she made her first smack across the side of the poor kids face while her fupa, draped in purple, orange, and gold rubberbanded-Rit glory, was wrestling with a mass of plastic bags full of consumer goods in the back of an SUV. When she turned to make sure little TimTim was good and hit and damn scared, the look on her face broke all the security cameras and headlights in the parking lot. Car alarms went off, glass shattered and fell on red plastic shopping carts and made the sound of sixteen hobbits asking in a rhythmic whisper, “have you ever seen a face so ugly? have you ever seen someone so fat?” And I wondered what the three year old did to get cold-clocked by his jumbo momma and I saw him crying and noticed his orange drool and then the answer came to me: Timmy ate a piece of candy. And from the looks of his mother, she is supposed to get ALL the candy.
After she emptied the shopping cart she focused her attention on emptying the face of her criminal son. My view was partially eclipsed by an ass large and true as the bumper of a Suburban, but I still saw little Timmy’s face transform from innocent tot to Lemonhead posterboy under the unbridled wrath of her ferocious face-pinch. She could have squeezed China up from the Memphis earth with the way her thumb raked into his cheek I tell ya and it still wasn’t enough, she had still not produced any proof. So she used the sausagey pointer finger on her other hand to scoop out a small, wet orange ball of candy. She scooped and flung it out across the parking lot in one pissed-off-to-holyhell swipe, leaving Timmy with a tear-wet, abuse-red perplexed face watching the coral cannonball sail across twenty car lengths, though a cracked window in a honda four-door, and into the lap of a belted-in tyke named Teddy. Who grabbed the treat, showed it to his mom in the front seat and popped it in his mouth.
They drove off but no one could hear because Timmy was crying and his mom was overdoing her point by screaming about how she already told him something about not doing something and no one stopped to tell her if she was so good telling him stuff then maybe he wouldn’t have to get pinched in the cheeks like that. I certainly didn’t. I thought for a minute to use some Flip video HD space to catch the live drama but thought better of it because I kind of think I have TMJ and can’t have people pinching at my face in the cheek/jaw area – why risk it. So I just sent a telepathic sympathy message to the kid: “Sorry lil Timmy, thems the breaks. Shouldn’t have been born to a bad mommy. What were you thinking?”
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