Channeling my inner New Yorker

29 06 2009

I have a temper to be reckoned with. Surprised? Not bloody likely if you know me. Now, I have been trying to overcome this in my own life for a while, through yoga and meditation and self-realization and all that.

But there are days when really, I just want to smack a bitch. And look out if you piss me off. The older I get, the less I worry about people’s opinions of me, and that has a rather interesting effect when I get mad. I have a rather rough side of my tongue when I choose.

Well, I was in the mall one day, a few weeks before Christmas. I had finished my shopping, and was feeling pretty darn proud of myself. I had the hormonal insanity otherwise known as PMS coursing through my veins like a hurricane, but I was under control. I even smiled at people in Wal-Mart at Christmastime. I considered myself in a good mood.

I saw two girlfriends in the coffee shop, so I came in to say hello, pushing my full cart of Christmas presents in front of me. The barista came over and asked me to remove the cart. And I said, (in retrospect, probably a wee bit bitchy) “Where? It’s full of stuff I don’t want stolen.” She was nice enough, and I conceded that there wasn’t enough room, so I pushed my cart out of the shop, and along the way, knocked a chair into the wall.

I came back and flopped onto the chair beside my friends, ready for caffeine. Just then, the owner came up to me.

Can you tell where this is headed?

Now, the rage that ensued shortly after she spoke to me has clouded my recollection of what she said. But in my hazy memory, I recall vaguely the sensation of being lectured. Apparently I had bashed my cart into the wall on purpose and she felt it necessary to give me an etiquette lesson.

I stood up. I am fairly certain my left eye began to twitch, and I let loose. Again, the haze of rage leaves me the inability of recollection of words uttered forth. I am under the belief, however, that I told her off with a few expletives. (I do love to swear.) She blinked a few times, I told her not to lecture me like a child and that she lost a customer for life.

I huffed out of there, so fucking mad that I forgot to say goodbye to my girlfriends.

Did the rage abate? Oh hell no. Apparently I felt it important to yell goodbye to my friends as I walked away. Naturally, they were peeing themselves laughing, as I am generally known for idiocy and making an ass of myself.

The best part of all, though, is that I never felt bad about it. Sometimes it feels good to let it out.

Moral of the story? Look out bitchez. I will cut you.



4 responses

29 06 2009

AAAAAnd that’s why I like to stay friendly with you. Just in case…

30 06 2009

You, my dear, are MY KINDA GAL. Rock on!

30 06 2009

I sooooooo hear ya Kris…. oh ma dear ghad, when pms hits I could kick my foot right through a wall if I so much as miss the spot where the spoon goes when I put it in the dishwasher!!

8 07 2009

Love it!! I’m thinking we’d get along really well girl, as long as we didn’t go for coffee or try to mail a parcel at the damn postal office!

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