I got called a tool yesterday. Fun times.
You know, when I was in high school, I was on the yearbook staff. Editor, to be exact. (horn tooting is allowed in this instance) We had a wall in the staff room where we would hang all sorts of quotes and pictures that we thought were funny. It was innocent enough. Well, kinda.
We had this really awful picture of the cheerleaders that hung on the wall and the girls in the picture were not the most...moral...of individuals and some of the more vocal girls on staff decided that that particular picture needed a title. "Garden Tools."
Of course, the cheer leading coach came in the room for some terrible reason and saw it, got offended for some stupid reason, told the cheerleaders what it said, then they were all pissed and it became an early incarnation of a Gossip Girl subplot. I didn't write it but you know how that goes. I didn't prevent it from being on the wall either. My bad. Sorry girls. I actually like cheerleaders a lot now. I'm a big fan of the guys and gals that cheer for the sporting teams here at Baylor. Rah Rah and all of that. Big fan.
So yesterday, the tables were turned on me. Except I was verbally called a tool. Clearly, the know-it-alls that said it have been squelched from my life and shan't return, but still. (just kidding...) Since when did a one word text message answer constitute being a tool? I'm with people I usually don't get to hang out with, we are talking, I don't really want to be on my phone texting other people. So one word answers is what you get. I stand by it. I don't take it back. And if that makes me a tool, then so be it.