There are moments in my life when I badly want to punch something. Moments like that, I wish I was a guy. I wish I could go to a random bar and insult some loser’s wife so I could get into a fight and just let it all out. Of course I’d pick a skinny guy, someone I was sure I could whip. No short people. They might have a Napoleon Complex.
There’s a danger in repressed anger. It makes you go beserk one day and slash entire populations with chainsaw. Or at least that’s what the horrors say. I’ve no idea how true that is, but I’m playing a lot of slasher flicks in my mind.
Princess is bored. When she’s bored, she comes up with wild ideas. She gets that from me. She’s been stuck indoors for days and has a serious case of cabin fever. And me? Well, I have PMS. In addition to all the other junk inside my head.
I suppose it would be logical to sit down, breathe deep, carefully analyse the sources of my angst, and solve them one by one. But noooo, this is one of the areas in my life that I decide to be a girl. So I’m sitting here fuming and daring anyone to cross me now. I need an excuse to beat something up, so go ahead, make my day. In fact, this would be the perfect time for an Ex to show up, preferably not a nice one.
I ranted a bit on Facebook and somehow managed to put an advert on my status. Crap! Then I went for help on Twitter … but it’s down. I need to blow something up. No, seriously, I need to blow something up. It’s a good thing I don’t know how to make bombs from toilet soap, or there would be some serious grief tonight. Le sigh.
My next idea was mad-calling. It’s just like drunk-dialling, except I look for two options. One is a person I can rant to. The other is a person I’m mad at. I need to make legitimate noise at someone so I don’t bite my baby’s head off. So far, I don’t have any takers, and I think that’s really sad.
I got a timely email from someone I could lash at, but I decided not to – I love her too much. So I explained that if I tell her everything on my mind right now, we will never speak again. Meanwhile, I’ve spent much of the day in the bathroom. I hide in there to breathe when princess says something that makes me want to shake her. Before I bark out some retort, I bite my tongue and go into the bathroom. She’s just being her usual sanguine self, and she doesn’t cope well with boredom, so I don’t really blame her. It’s not her fault her mom has been abducted by vagina-bleeding aliens.
The dumbest thing is that I’ll probably be fine in the morning. Nothing will have changed, but the angst will have passed and I will see things like a grown up and deal. Fucking ovaries.