Bound and Gagged
Now before you go off thinking that Charlie and I are suddenly into S&M, I'll have you know it wasn't so sudden. Okay, I lie. We're not. It's just me. Wait, let me rephrase that. No, I'm not into S&M, but I do like black leather stilettos. Although I only like them on Eddie Izzard (as all of you well know). And fur-lined handcuffs can be kind of fun. There was this time...Okay, geez..see what's happened now? I can't stay focussed. This is not where I intended to go with this. But now that I've gone there, it just adds to the list of reasons for my general pissiness lately.
It seems, in the past couple of weeks, that I'm under an overall cloud of "Oh no you di-n't" with just about every situation life throws at me. All except that interview on Monday which I epically tanked. With that I went out to my car and cried. Actually I bawled. You know, the kind where your body shakes and you put your head on your steering wheel, but then the horn honks and scares you, which makes you cry harder. Other than that, and the feeling that I'm useless and will never find a job, I am a nasty-assed bitch. Unless I love you. Then you should have no fear of me.
However, if you're a loud-mouthed, drunk college kid watching a volleyball game, and yelling obscenities and racial slurs at the players on my friend's kid's team, you should definitely fear me. If you're a "fake" Hawaiian wanna-be trying to talk pidgin at a tiki bar, you should definitely fear me. Especially after I've had two Mango Mai-Tais. If you're a 13-year old walking your dog at the park at the same time I'm walking my dog, and I see you pick up a tree branch switch and start hitting your dog with it...you SURE as hell better fear me. If you show up 45 minutes late to take a test to work for the Census Bureau and hold the whole process up because you can't follow simple directions and have to ask a million questions even though this is the FIFTH time you're taking a simple 28 question test, then by all means, FEAR ME. Because lately, NOTHING is off-limits, and I seemingly have become very, very brave in my ability to make someone aware of my unhappiness with their behavior.
Very brave, that is, unless....well, you see, I can't even say here. And thus, the feeling of being bound & gagged. So many things have transpired in my life in the past month. So many very mind-boggling things. Things that Gordon Ramsay would say leave him "gobsmacked". Things that make me wonder; "WTF?" Seriously. I know I am not alone in this thinking. At least not by my husband and kids. The problem is that I cannot write about these things. My therapy is writing. I believe that so much of the things in life that baffle me are made bearable for me because I have Warm Cookies to run to. Right now that "relief" eludes me. As a result, the dumbasses in my vicinity should be quaking in their shoes. Unless my husband performs lots of stress-relieving magic. Which he should do very soon. Again and again. He could, quite literally be a Super Hero. Nah. Even if he "fixed" me, I'd probably still let the asshats in my breathing space have it. Because you just can't fix stupid.
It seems, in the past couple of weeks, that I'm under an overall cloud of "Oh no you di-n't" with just about every situation life throws at me. All except that interview on Monday which I epically tanked. With that I went out to my car and cried. Actually I bawled. You know, the kind where your body shakes and you put your head on your steering wheel, but then the horn honks and scares you, which makes you cry harder. Other than that, and the feeling that I'm useless and will never find a job, I am a nasty-assed bitch. Unless I love you. Then you should have no fear of me.
However, if you're a loud-mouthed, drunk college kid watching a volleyball game, and yelling obscenities and racial slurs at the players on my friend's kid's team, you should definitely fear me. If you're a "fake" Hawaiian wanna-be trying to talk pidgin at a tiki bar, you should definitely fear me. Especially after I've had two Mango Mai-Tais. If you're a 13-year old walking your dog at the park at the same time I'm walking my dog, and I see you pick up a tree branch switch and start hitting your dog with it...you SURE as hell better fear me. If you show up 45 minutes late to take a test to work for the Census Bureau and hold the whole process up because you can't follow simple directions and have to ask a million questions even though this is the FIFTH time you're taking a simple 28 question test, then by all means, FEAR ME. Because lately, NOTHING is off-limits, and I seemingly have become very, very brave in my ability to make someone aware of my unhappiness with their behavior.
Very brave, that is, unless....well, you see, I can't even say here. And thus, the feeling of being bound & gagged. So many things have transpired in my life in the past month. So many very mind-boggling things. Things that Gordon Ramsay would say leave him "gobsmacked". Things that make me wonder; "WTF?" Seriously. I know I am not alone in this thinking. At least not by my husband and kids. The problem is that I cannot write about these things. My therapy is writing. I believe that so much of the things in life that baffle me are made bearable for me because I have Warm Cookies to run to. Right now that "relief" eludes me. As a result, the dumbasses in my vicinity should be quaking in their shoes. Unless my husband performs lots of stress-relieving magic. Which he should do very soon. Again and again. He could, quite literally be a Super Hero. Nah. Even if he "fixed" me, I'd probably still let the asshats in my breathing space have it. Because you just can't fix stupid.
posted by Pua; Bakin' and Tendin' Bar | 12:24 PM
