Thursday, September 17, 2015

An Angry List

Lately, I’m always pissed off. I don’t know if it’s the heat, the fact that I can’t catch a break, or the fact that I’m surrounded by idiots. I just can’t seem to remain calm. Someone said to me, ‘You’re a writer. Write down your feelings and try to figure out what’s going on.' Whaaaaa? Stephen Hawking in a rowboat! What a god damn rocket scientist. A fucking Einsteinic genius. Hey, Donald Trump, did you try writing down those feelings about how much you’re threatened by strong women instead of calling them all ugly and fat? Hey Tom Brady, maybe you should write down those feelings of being an inadequate quarter back instead of cheating all the time. Just fucking brilliant.

So…um...you get the idea. I don't think it'll help. The end result is that I did end up with one of those nifty lists that writers come up with when they can’t think of anything to write about.  

Things that drive me over a cliff in a thimble full of acid wrapped in a blanket of rage:
 
·       Writers who make lists. Christ on a cracker people it’s lazy writing! You just take snippets of a thought and make sarcastic comments…woohoo, Nobel Prize for writing here I come!

·       You’ve heard this before. EVERYone has this on a list. So why does it still happen? You’re in the passing lane on the highway/freeway whatever, and the moron in front of you is going slower than the speed limit! You know they’re talking or maybe even texting on their cell - so in their own bubble that they’re oblivious to the world around them. And by world I mean me. You can crawl up their ass but lo and behold that cop, who is never around when someone is going 100 and bobbing and weaving from lane to lane, finally stops watching ‘Magnum P.I.’ reruns long enough to pull you over for tail-gating.

·      You’re flying in the passing lane, you get a text, you glance at it and someone is instantaneously up your ass and flashing you to get out of their way. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. First, this is not the same as the previous tantrum because – hello? It’s me. Second, it’s not the same as talking or the act of texting. Third, I am going the same speed as I was previously. It’s a completely different thing. The fucker needs to back off or I swear to a fake deity that I will slam on my breaks and stop, rip him out of the his car, reach down his throat and pull his nuts out of his mouth to give him a waddle (notice how I assume it’s a man?). What? I’m not really going to do this…geez, relax people…Violent? Hmmmm, maybe…

·       Strollers that’re wider than a fucking continent. Come on people, you’ve seen them. The ones that take up the whole aisle in the grocery store while the mommy or daddy is on their cell, I assume trying to solve the whole world peace thing, and ignoring the crabby little snot machines screaming LOUDLY? I give the parent the death stare and they are so in the phone zone, they don’t see it. IT’S THE FUCKING DEATH STARE! It strikes fear in the hearts of men, women, children and animals - and they ignore it! My solution is to walk down the candy aisle and open two bags of Hershey’s Kisses (milk chocolate, no nuts - gotta watch those peanut allergies) and hand each child their own bag. So what if they eat the foil wrapper, It’s freaking fiber. And when Jr & Jr-ette are bouncing off the walls at midnight – maybe that world peace solution will come a little faster.

·       People who cannot tell if you’re joking. I once commented on how pretty a co-worker’s necklace was and mentioned that I’m like a monkey with tin foil when I see shiny things. Her face got all serious and she whispered conspiratorially, ‘Really? All the time?’ Are you fucking kidding me? Sure YOU MORON! I also like to jump on conference room tables and fling my poo at my coworkers! And when I’m done I crack open their skulls and pick the stupidity out of their brains. Ok, maybe a little violent...

Wow. I’m so much more relaxed. I feel so much better getting that crap out of my system! You know, maybe making a list really isn’t a bad idea after all. Let’s all hug and sing a song while riding our unicorns over the rainbow to lie on clouds of pink and blue cotton candy.

Kum ba fuckin yah people!

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A writer exercising the writing muscle.