You Can't See Me

Shhh... don't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm hiding. Maybe if I close my eyes really tight no one will be able to see me.

You ever want to be invisible, I mean besides when you were 3-years-old and learning how to play Hide and Seek? Today was that day for me.

Minding my very own business, I pulled up to the school to pick up Lane 1 and Lane 2. From across the parking lot she spotted me. This is the lady I try and usually succeed in avoiding. The PTA president.

"Ms. Lane. Ms. Lane!" she shouted, as she ran toward my car.

I tried to scrunch down in my seat like a low rider but it was too late, she saw me. "How rude would it be if I sped away right now? How long can I let my kids wait for me to return before the school reports them abandoned? Jesus, why am I talking to myself?"

The president of the PTA is one of those ladies you see in traffic driving her SUV, talking on her cell phone, while applying lipstick. She only has one child and would never dare get caught hauling anything in her super-sized vehicle. She is the type of woman who goes to get her hair done every week and wears acrylic nails, always done in a French manicure. You can tell by every outfit that she is a mall shopper, who rarely wears the same outfit twice and the rock on her finger explains where all of the money comes from.

If nothing else, I hate her for jealousy reasons alone. Where's my mother fucking sugar daddy? Oh, that's right, I married for love. What the hell was I thinking?

Truth is, I'm not jealous of all the stuff she has because, I think SUVs should be owned by people who actually haul stuff around or have a whole slew of kids. I think everyone ought to hang up and drive. I hate women who apply makeup while driving, it just gives the rest of us a bad name. I think big rings are gaudy. I prefer my Levis to her yuppie gear. I wouldn't wear fake nails if you held me down and super glued them to my hands. And I, under any and all circumstances, would never wear my hair in a Martha Stuart do, ever.

What I am jealous of is her time. Lucky bitch has time to chase people down in parking lots. After my post yesterday, you see my time is somewhat limited. Mr. Lane is out of town all week, every week, so it's always just me and the kids. Which is fine, he and I probably get along better because of it, but it would be nice if he made oodles of money so I could have plenty of time to goof around, like that crazy PTA lady. I bet she doesn't even know how lucky she is.

"Ms. Lane!" she was waving a piece of paper in the air as she ran in my direction.

I thought about the last few times she saw and caught me and that made me want to be invisible all the more. Remember last week when I was helping Clifford the Big Red Dog with the book fair? Yeah, that was her fault. She also trapped me in for Market Day recently, where I got the pleasure of unloading a truck, unpacking and sorting food, filling orders, repacking into different boxes and carrying stuff to people's cars (SUVs and vans). And where was Mrs.-Time-To-Kill you ask? Probably getting her stupid hair and nails done. God forbid she break a fucking nail by helping me and 25 local elderly volunteers with Market Day.

"What more does this woman want from me? I am not her sugar daddy and she is not the boss of me! That poor man!"

"Oh, hi." I said, as if I hadn't seen her running calling my name the entire length of the parking lot. I spoke through the tiniest little crack in the top of my window.
"Hi Ms. Lane. I'm glad I caught you." she giggled as if she could see me failing at my invisible mode efforts.
"How's things?"
"Oh, things are wonderful! I bet you'll be happy to know that we will be getting all of our potential new PTA members together for a meeting next week. And I just knew you wouldn't want to miss this."

"I would rather drown myself in a filthy toilet, with a swirling turd, than join PTA and hang around you and the other yuppie moms who have nothing better to do than badger us hard working stiffs. Can't you see that I am not one of you guys lady? Look at my untamed hair. And checkout these fingernails, oh my there's dirt under them! I would be an embarrassment to all of you Stepford wives. I wear cowgirl boots with horseshit on the bottoms. And checkout this t-shirt I'm wearing today, it has a, a, oh, my god, a stain!"

"Hmmm..." I looked at the paper. "Oh, jeez. I sure wish it was a different day. I am helping my mother move that day. Darn!" I lied! My mom moved today, HA. I don't really know why I couldn't tell her no without lying, but I didn't even feel one teeny tiny ounce of Catholic guilt!

She had this look on her face that proved my theory. This woman has never been told "no" before. That made me happy. Even if I had to lie.