Thursday, November 19, 2009

Shedding my skin.......

"I'm a bitch, I'm a bitch, Oh the bitch is back"...Elton John

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed about a week ago and ever since then I've been feeling the incessant poke of a wild hair up my ass.

I should probably take a trip to the pharmacy for some IcyHot. It might help with the muscle I've been on too.

I don't like being this ugly. This surly. This crabby.

I'm filled with rage and aggravation every time I get behind the wheel.

And everyone in my path is either an asshole or a maniac.

Today, pulling into a store parking lot on a work related errand, my equally irritable coworker started to beat on the horn with both fists when someone (we couldn't see a head over the seat) driving an old silver Buick took at least 90 seconds to pull into a parking space.

After my coworker squealed the tires around the sloooooo driver I noticed what appeared to be nun garb on a teeny tiny woman driver.

"Oh my God" I said "You were beeping at a nun, you ass".

"That's not a nun" she snapped back.

"She's wearing a habit" I said.

"It's fake" she replied.

"What's fake? I asked.

"The nun. The nun is fake" she answered in her typical know it all tone.

"You can buy those things anywhere" she continued.

I think to myself..."Why would someone fake being a nun? Why would someone think someone would fake being a nun? Why would someone buy a habit to wear to the grocery store?....Why oh why oh why am I so surrounded by rambling idiots????

"A fake nun...oooookay" I say, with an overdramatic eyeroll.

Standing in a wayyy too long line at the store waiting to be checked out I have myself a little fantasy.

Once, just once, I would love to take leave of my senses long enough to start screaming at the people in line in front of me...I want to scream bloody murder...things like,

"HEY!!! Any check writers here?? Hows about we dig that ol check book out from the bowels of our overstuffed handbags and take a crack at getting started so we don't hold up this line any more than that bimbo slow poke cashier is already doing right now."

To the person behind me whose cart keeps bumping my ankles....

While I'm back back backin my butt up I'm gonna yell....

"BACK...BACK....GET BACK...GET BACK...BACK OFF...BACK OFF YOU FREAK...back off....give me some personal space here. If you or your rabid kid hits me with the cart ONE MORE TIME I'm going to pull the hairs out of both your noses one... at.... a.... time!!!!!"

I giggle to myself as I look around and think of how stinking funny it would be to blow a gasket like that....

Just the thought of the virtual breakdown has me feeling better.

Sometimes when I feel like this I wish my body had a zipper and I could just unzip myself and step out of this skin.

Walk away.

Start fresh.

Leave the ugliness of my mood behind.

When I leave the store I suddenly feel a bit better...

That is until we see the fake nun again...this time she is hobbling on her fake cane making her way to the Buick.

"Hurry up" my crabby coworker says, talking to me. "We don't want to get behind her again".

"Just so you know" I say to my coworker "there is no stop, drop, and roll in Hell".

Thanks for listening......

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