I’m Having a Meltdown

Hey, so I’m a bitch. I know, I’ve pointed this out before. But trust me, it’s getting worse. Pretty much everyone is pissing me off lately. (Note: This may have something to do with my job upping the pressure/workload yet – curiously – not upping the pay, OR it may have to do with the fact that I’m attempting to quit smoking. But you know what? I don’t really care about the reason.) Anyway, forgive me, but I’m about to go off – and yes, I know I’m going to hell…

-Hey fat people – yeah, I said it – lose some fucking weight! No, I’m not kidding. You take up too much fucking room when you sit down on the subway (and shouldn’t you be standing and, I don’t know, burning calories?). Sitting there while a four year old stands a few feet away is not going to endear me, or the rest of the world, to your fat ass.

-Person sleeping on the subway – wake the fuck up! Wait, let me rephrase that: People sleeping on the subway – if you attempt to rest your head on my shoulder one more time, I am going to fucking explode. I mean it – this is going to be much worse that my usual M.O. of jabbing you with my elbow and telling you to get the fuck off (you disgusting fucking stranger – you think I want you touching me?).

-Creepy guy in my office who seems to do NOTHING but stare at my breasts – I am THISCLOSE to getting my fucking ass fired for kicking you in the nuts. Cut. It. Out.

-Carl Pavano – I hope you and your delicate, delicate little body rot in hell. Until you show up at Yankees Stadium and buy every season ticket holder a fucking $9 beer (and apologize damnit), you’re on my shit list.

-Doctors and insurance companies – fuck you! Thanks to you I have to pay $125 for being a smoker! Like I don’t spend enough on actual fucking cigarettes. OK, the story: I went for a physical a few weeks ago (which is supposedly completely covered by insurance), and my doctor asked me if I smoke. Thinking she would probably know if I was lying, I said yes. In response, she informed me that smoking was bad for me (NO!), and asked if I wanted any literature on quitting. ‘Not right now’ I replied, feeling guilty (which I imagine was the fucking point), and left it at that. That is, until a couple of days ago when I got a bill from my insurance company for $125. Apparently, when my doctor spent “Between 2 and 10 minutes discussing the dangers of smoking” with me, I was getting an “Extra.” You know, something my insurance company doesn’t cover. (Although there’s no way she spent even two full minutes talking to me about that shit.) So thanks everyone, I’m quitting (mainly so I never have to pay that fucking fee again). And I’m in a bad fucking mood – I haven’t been able to relax in days. That’ll teach me never to tell the truth again.

-People who pick at/touch themselves. You know who I’m talking about – the women who don’t just toss their hair but CONSTANTLY fucking touch, twirl, or tug on it. The people who mindlessly do little shit like rub two fingers together – all…day…long. The assholes whose unconscious ticks make me want to commit a homicide.

-Elevator morons – otherwise known as the fuckwads who come up while you’re waiting for the elevator and push the up/down button. Like I hadn’t fucking thought of that! I mean sure, the arrow’s all lit up and I’m standing there, but maybe that’s just some weird coincidence. Maybe I’m brain damaged and like to stand in front of elevators staring at the doors. Or maybe their magical touch is just what the elevator needs to realize we’re serious. I don’t know. But I swear, one day I’m not going to stop at just shooting these fuckers a nasty look.

-Anyone who walks a couple paces ahead of the person they’re with. Everyone I know does this to me. I’ll admit it – I’m a stroller. I like to walk at my own pace, and I don’t hurry for anyone. But I’m also not walking at a ridiculously slow pace. I have long fucking legs and I’ve even been known to pass people. So what’s your fucking problem? Are we running late for an appointment no one told me about? I thought we were just shopping. Wait, are we in a race? Because you’re pissing me off, and I want you to know that if it’s such a fucking hardship to walk beside me so we can have a conversation, then get the fuck out of my life. I’m done with this game.

(And exhale.)

OK. And with that I hope everyone has a good weekend. Don’t let anyone drive you nuts. And wish me luck, I’ll be spending Saturday with NY Guy’s friends! Apparently, we’re at THAT point in our relationship. Fucking* yay! And while I’ve actually already met a few of these guys, I’m getting the impression Saturday is my official unveiling as ‘The Girlfriend.’ (Let’s pretend I’m not going to visit another guy in 2 weeks, shall we.) So this should be fun. Check back on Monday to see how it went.

*Number of times I used the word ‘fuck’ in this post: 20