Gifted and Talented

Let me begin by stating that my child is neither gifted or talented.  He's average.  Academically, perhaps slightly below average.  This fact, however, has absolutely no bearing on what I am about to say regarding not these gifted and talented children but their dork-ass parents.  If your kid is so fucking smart, why don't you just send him straight to NASA as I'm sure they could use some help with some rocket science or something.  Personally, I do not want to hear about how Bobby isn't being challenged enough and Sally is sooooooo bored.  Waaah, waaaahhh, waahhh.  Poor you.   And isn't it funny that this is such a "thing" for you that you have to talk about it ALL the fucking time?!  They find a way to work it into even the most mundane conversation......Me (in the instance that I find myself in a situation where I cannot avoid conversation with one of these insufferable idiots):  "How are you?"  Gifted and Talented Parent:  "Ohhhh......I'm okay......this gifted and talented program is really a grind".  Or, Me: "Can I borrow your pen?" GATP: "Sure.....just make sure I get it back......I need it to sign Billy up for the fourth grade gifted and talented extra-tricky calculus program".  Screw you.  NOBODY CARES. EXCEPT YOU.  YOUR KID PROBABLY DOES NOT CARE.  In fact, from what I hear, half the time the kids aren't even gifted OR talented.  Their parents just insist that they are and the school is forced to go along with the charade.  I actually feel sorry for these kids.  It's bad enough that they're being raised by social misfits but to have to be paraded around like trick ponies and showcasing their mad-genius skilz just takes it to the next level.  'Cause that's what they do......."Jimmy, show Mrs. Christie how you can split an atom.....go on now....". MRS. CHRISTIE DOES NOT WANT TO SEE YOU SPLIT AN ATOM.  MRS. CHRISTIE WANTS YOUR MOTHER TO SHUT THE HELL UP.  PLEASE.  I am not impressed.  I am bored.  To tears. And I really wish you had that switch in your brain that recognizes the glazed over look on a person's face who really wishes she was anywhere else but talking to you about about the difficulties of raising the second coming of Christ, Albert Einstein edition.  Okay.  I'm done.  And yes, I do feel better now.