Dear Lady at the T-ball Games,
Although our children play together on a team I have grown to dislike you very much. Actually, it is to the point where I hate to even see you show up to their games anymore. At first I just though you were a bitch, but now I'm seeing what a narcissistic self-centered old hag that you are. The last game, where I heard you bitching about that lady smoking, is what really did it for me.
You are not the only one on the side lines. Nor do I believe that someone should put their cigarette out just because you came and decided to stand directly behind them. Then you go and bitch to your almost-just-as-bitchy husband about "people smoking here should be more considerate - they should have a smoking section." Geez, lady, did you forget that we live in a free country, and also that it is legal to smoke in public in the state of Kentucky unless otherwise stated? Yes, I hate to be the one to inform you, but it is true. The sad part about it is that these women do step off of the sidelines. They don't smoke in the stands, and heck I've not even seen anyone smoking NEAR the field - they usually walk all the way back toward the school, which obviously isn't good enough for you who wants to stand directly behind them wherever they're at and then bitch about it.
Yes, I'm a smoker. No, I do not blow my smoke in your or your child's faces, although I would like very much to do so to you. I'm pretty sure you just started bitching to your hubby within my ear range because you know I smoke. Did that make me feel guilty? Did I then weep for your overly sensitive nasal passages? Negative. I believe, if you remember correctly, that I stepped out of the dug-out, and off of the field and I lit one up. Why? Because I'm allowed to, and there's nothing you can do about it. I don't think my smoking 50 ft. away from you actually pollutes your precious breathing air any more than it already is.
Yes, I did notice the day that you and your snotty friend were talking about me. I did see her look over at me, say something to you, and then you both looked. I'm pretty sure it was because I was smoking all the way across the field - alone. You must have been horrified, as I imagine. With cigarette smoke wafting 20 ft. away from you. How ever did you manage to live through it? Did your gossiping about me bother me? No, I learned how to deal with bitches like you and your girlfriend in high school.
You know, now that I think about it, that same friend that you were talking about me with? Well, I'm pretty sure it was her son that you yelled at during our last game, and said to his father "You better go out there and get him before I say something!" Just because him and your precious offspring were goofing around on the field. Then after they pulled the poor boy off of the field, and actually left the game because of it, I'm pretty sure you were standing there talking to another lady about the one that was such a good friend of yours before. You know what that makes me think? Well, nothing. It just makes want to stand a little bit closer to you next time I light one up.
Oh, and one other thing. I think it's hilarious how you manage to keep your hair bleached that nasty shade of blonde, and keep your legs perfectly tan. You think you're something dontcha? Well, you might have been back in the day, but not anymore, because the deep open wrinkles on your face and the liver spots all over your legs have gotten the best of your possibly once decent looks.