Oh Karma, sometimes you just kill me. I was in Anthropologie on Saturday and there was a little girl standing on the bed. Yes, the display bed. The teenage sales girl politely asked her not to stand - she wouldn't want her to get hurt. The mom peeked around a rack of $72 t-shirts that will shrink all twisty the first time they're washed (why do they do that?) and smiled at her sticky little spawn. A few minutes later, the little girl was on her feet again; and this time the salesgirl asked her not to stand in a louder voice, with clear "you little shit" subtext. And a few minutes later, the subtext was "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you retarded? Get off the goddamned bed!"
Later that day at the food court, the same sticky little girl, Hotdog-on-a-Stick in one hand and lemonade in the other, kicked a chair away from a table and turned around to sit in it.
But she missed. And landed on her ass.
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