Anger Management

Fuck! Fuck! Fuckety FUCK!!!

Yeah, obviously, this isn't going to be a happy-happy, joy-joy entry.

Today, I left work and marched to my vehicle. I was bitching and moaning to a friend about something on my cell. In order to get a grip on my lock fob, so I could unlock the door, I had to place my pride, my joy--my iPod--onto the roof of my car. I called up another friend to vent about this exchange.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take my iPod off the roof of my car. My iPod is gone. Gone. Like that. And for what? Because I didn't fucking THINK!! It was senseless!! I feel like a fucking idiot!! It would have taken two seconds. Tops. All I had to do was step out of my car and reach up and grab my iPOD. And now, my prized possession, the thing that helps me sleep at night, the object that I work out with, the item that I walk the hallways of my job with, listening to power songs, is gone for good.

GODDAMMIT!!!! SON OF A BITCH!!

I am so fucking pissed, right now!! Seriously!! I could spit! And if I could spit acid, like one of those alien creatures in the "Alien" Quadrilogy, I would.

I felt so awful. I didn't exactly take it out on my friends, Erik and Andy, but no matter how much of a happy front I tried to put up, I'm sure I wasn't easy to be around.

The whole night, I wanted to hit something--something that is so not me!! The victim of abuse, the item that saw the business end of my fist was--wait for it!!--a plastic container of macaroons. I beat the shit out of that damn thing. It was pretty ridiculous. On the plus-side, no macaroons were harmed in the making of this rage-filled temper tantrum. Erik even told me to hit him in the shoulder and, me being me, I hit him ever-so-gently in the armpit instead.

What can I say? Hand-to-hand combat ain't my bag, alright?! Besides, those macaroons are just delicious! Why waste 'em, right?

Tomorrow, I'm picking up a new iPod from some dude off of Craig's List. The price is $160, which is essentially $40 less than what I paid for my first one. I hope this guy doesn't try to fuck me over--literally or figuratively.

Anyway, I'm bitter and tired. I'm out.

But be warned: keep your macaroons away from my.

They're not safe!!!