Day 4: Mary Kay, I Ain't Mad Atcha

I was out walking with my kid today (the smaller one). We strolled down to the creek near our house to engage in some serious pebble skipping. After our outing, we headed back to the house, ready for some lunch.

We stopped to cross the two-way street just as an older lady walked up with her dog. Walking toward her, we caught eyes. I smiled, she smiled. At that moment, a pink cadillac drove past us.

"There goes that Mary Kay bitch," she muttered.

Huh? Did she just call someone a "Mary Kay bitch?" Before I even had a chance to digest and recover from the profanities lobbed at some poor, innocent cosmetic-selling haus frau who'd sold her heart out enough to win a pink cadillac...

"Don't expect me to buy any of your makeup shit either!"

Whoa. Seriously. What just happened? What was this woman's major malfunction? What beef could she possibly have with the Mary Kay lady? She's driving around in a pink car for Christ's sake. Had she been sold defective moisturizer? Or was she morally against pyramid schemes? Does she hate pink? Pink cadillacs? Maybe she's just jealous and wishes she had a pink cadillac?

Or was there something even more sinister behind the "Mary Kay bitch" comment? Had there been in-fighting within the neighborhood's Mary Kay contingent? Maybe a power struggle that ended in bloodshed? Territorial wars? Makeup parties fractured by corruption?

My 3-foot tall sidekick and I could only wonder and speculate as we headed back to the house for a bowl of mac 'n cheese.

Serious suburban angst. You can't make this shit up.