Tootsies

So I am driving from Columbia to St. Louis today and it was like three semi truckers in a row that proceeded to honk when I drove by. I couldn't figure out what in the heck was going on. Were they excited I was from Nebraska maybe? Perhaps they were signaling an accident up ahead? Or maybe it had nothing to do with me, I didn't know. So I am about to pass another trucker when I happen to notice that the reason they are honking might have something to do with the fact that I was sitting completely stretched with one leg up on the dash the other on the floor- did I mention I spoke in a fashion class today so I was wearing a skirt?... Ick. But c'mon it's a long drive I wanted to be comfortable. I didn't realize I was giving the nasty truckers a Britney show, luckily, going commando isn't something I am into though. But still gross. I hate truckers. They are my main competitors on the road. And believe you me, I have called their "1-800-How-Am-I-Driving?" numbers more than once and given them a piece of my mind. Just because you drive an obese truck does not mean you can boot little Camrys off the road with the simple switch of your blinker. Not my Camry, anyway. Speaking of rude people, I arrived in St. Louis a bit ahead of schedule, so to waste time while waiting for Chris to get off work I decided Izzy and I should go sit outside at Panera and have a smoothie. So I go inside to order, carrying Izzy in her red doggy carrier, a carrier that looks more like a purse. Keep in mind I have taken Izzy into many hotels, stores, restaurants, some very nice restaurants actually, without a problem. Some wench of a dog whisperer behind the counter apparently sensed a dog in the restaurant and came hauling out to me to say,
"You can't have a dog in here."
So I said, "I do not plan to eat in here, I am going to eat outside."
"Well you can have her on the patio, but not in here."
"Yes, I think we have clarified that, thus the reason I am getting this to go so I will eat it outside." What the hell was this womans problem?
"Well she's in here now."
"Okay, do you have a place to order outside?"
"No."
"So what do you intend I do? Shall I yell my order from the patio? Will that suffice?"
"Well you can order and pay, but then she has to go outside."
Rude. So I order, go outside, and then my name is called so what do I do? Well, I go back inside, carrying the dog carrier. Did this woman truly expect me to leave a tea cup Yorkie outside alone in St. Louis? I mean there is a reason many a great rapper come from this place. It's ghettttto. So when I enter this time she is bitching to an older man, looks like he might be her boss. He sees me enter and says,
"Can we help you?"
Uh, ya, I want to get my food I paid for, douche.
"Just coming to get my food."
The lady continues to glare, so now I'm fired up.
"For your information, I can bring this dog in here if I want. She is a therapy dog, so technically I can bring her in anywhere I want. I am not choosing to sit inside and eat, but I would like to let you know she is licensed, so I could if I choose." Lie. Well, therapy dogs are real, and if your dog is registered as one, they can be taken absolutely anywhere. The lie is that Izzy is not.
Boss man looks kinda nervous, so he tries to be nice to me.
"Oh does that mean she is really nice?"
"Yes, and it also means she is the size of my cell phone."
Bitch woman responds,
"Well do you have something saying she is licensed?"
"Yes, actually I do. But I stopped carrying the certificate with me given the fact that I have never come across a problem ever before. Well before this place."
And lady says,
"Okay, well I see, we just have to be careful because we could lose our job."
Don't worry lady,your coveted cashier spot at Panera is safe. So now I am still sitting outside on their patio, and as soon as Izzy is ready to leave behind one of her infamous tootsie rolls we will be on our merry way.