"properly practiced, knitting soothes
and it doesn't
hurt the untroubled spirit either."
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
So Much For The Holiday Spirit!
Allow me to rant 'n rave for a bit, won't you?
I am not generally much of one for cussing--well, except on the freeway, but that's normal, right? Especially when you live in southern California and everyone else on the freeway is an idiot?
I don't claim to write a 'family-friendly' blog, so if I slip up occasionally, it's forgivable. I am typically a nice, modest person. And my mother reads this blog*. So I tend to hold back on the vitriol and the four letter words.
Today I am not feeling nice or modest. Today I am pissed. At lo so many things and people. While I'm not generally a cusser, currently I find myself surrounded by people and immersed in events that make marvelous cusees.
Here are a few of them:
1) Dear Idiot Man who shook his finger at me like I was a naughty schoolgirl when he went through a four-way intersection on my turn: screw you. That little admonishment thing made me want to get out of my car and break your damn pointer finger so you could never belittle anyone else like that again.
2) Dear people who find the toy fart noise maker just so dang funny: QUIT IT! You are adults. I know that we all have fun from time to time with inappropriate materials, and that you have to lighten the mood sometimes, but seriously with the toy? All the motherf&*(#ing time?!?! For the love of Pete, put that thing away.
3) Dear person who thought it was a good idea to chastise me in front of other people today for being late due to traffic** and who felt the need to exaggerate the situation for effect, I really don't think you should be talking. Really, with the coming in late, leaving early, long lunches?
4) Dear person who keeps taking his/her sh#$%y mood out on me. I may not be your BFF, but neither am I the root of all evil. There is no reason to talk down to me. I do not deserve the snide comments or rolled eyes. Sniping at me isn't going to make me want to accomplish tasks better or harder. How about treating me like everyone else? Why you've decided that that other person and I are your own personal pinatas for these kinds of days (PMS? Fight with the spouse? Not feeling well?) is beyond me.
5) Naturally el presidente gets some of my wrath today. So we signed an agreement to give nuclear technology to India, the enemy of our ally Pakistan. And did I hear incorrectly, or do we already know that India is selling the technology and arms to Iran? Iran who we (as a country) profess to hate? I may not be a foreign relations expert, but this sounds pretty damn stupid to me.
6) More Bush: I woke up to his press conference this morning on the radio. ACK! Quick! Somebody poke me in the ears with something sharp so that I don't have to hear another bumbling, pointless message that says not one f&*(ing thing of value to this good country.
7) Dear person I work with: stop emailing me stupid questions! You are leaving for the holiday in 45 minutes (not that I'm keeping track). Don't worry about projects that we are not starting till mid-January. Seriously. If you keep it up, I'm going to have to hunt you down and burn down your house.
8) Dear person who likes to position him/her self as 'direct' and 'honest', sometimes others see that as 'bossy' and 'mean', and at other not-so-friendly times as 'outright rude'. Be nice!
9) Dear stupid woman in our apartment building--get out of my apartment! Let me explain. I FINALLY got The Boy to agree that 700 sq ft of space for two fully grown adults and two fully grown (and hostile) cats is just not reasonable. I swayed him with talk of not having to see yarn in the living room but safely stashed away in another room. I threw in the idea of his using an actual closet instead of the hall closet where most people store their broom and vaccuum. I had him primed and ready to move on 11/1 when the apartment downstairs was supposed to be open. And then stupid woman did not leave. And then it was 11/8, and still she did not move. 4 days later, I took action. I went to the apartment manager. Stupid woman has decided to move 'some time next year', with no real indication of when that will be. January? February? Who knows! The b#$%^h is playing Russian roulette with my apartment and my patience. Get out and let me have my extra 25 sq ft (or whatever it is) of palatial decadence. I would like to unpack some of my wedding stuff from 6 MONTHS AGO for which I currently have no room. At all. My brand-new Kitchen Aid mixer and I appear doomed never to make bread together. This must be remedied.
Well, I think that's enough ranting for the time being. This has actually been kind of therapeutic. I feel a little better for having virtually yelled at all these people. Please don't let this entry scare you off. I'm usually pretty even-keeled. I've just reached my limit.
I once worked with a guy who observed that I am a pretty patient, easygoing person for long stretches of time when a lot of other people might tear out their own hair or set themselves on fire. Then I reach what he referred to as the "Dump Your Bucket" line. This is the place where I can no longer take, take, take all those meaningless, wasteful, stupid bits of information or slights and instead either explode or need to GET AWAY. Fortunately, I will be off all next week. So only two more days of incredibly stupid people pressing my buttons and trying to get me to hurt them. Oh goody. Let's hope I make it.
*The great irony of using my mother as a reason not to cuss on this here blog is that I don't think anything would make her laugh more. After 30+ years of knowing me as pretty restrained, and in some ways kinda prudish, nothing tickles my mom more than hearing me cuss. That or talk about sex. I think she finds the sex talk even more amusing. You'd have to know my mom. She's a riot.
**Holy s#$%, this is f^&*ing southern California, as I stated before. Being late due to traffic is par for the f^&*ing course.