Tumultuous Tuesday

I literally hate all the people today.

Yes, I meant literally.

My day started much like any other.

I awoke to the scream of my brain from the pain in my head... that was my first impression of the day.

I readied myself for work, saw the kids off to school and embarked on what should have been a fifteen to twenty minute commute to my place of employment.

FIFTY THREE MINUTES LATER, I pulled into the parking space I was to claim as my own for the day.

Fifty three minutes, people... for a twenty minute max drive.

"Why?" You may find yourself asking...

"Because!" I answer defiantly.

Because across town, some brilliant engineer has decided to close a major artery in one of the busier clogging points of our fair city... the rotary... displacing like oh, I dunno... twenty thousand cars? Is that a fair estimate? 

It feels like seven million, so I figure to my hyperbole-prone brain, twenty thousand seems about right.

I hate that bastard!

...and I know it was a man. No woman worth her salt would have gotten away with closing a major artery. She would have found a way to complete the scheduled work with much less disruption to all the spoiled little children making their way to and from their days. This, I promise you.

I hate all the people, without prejudice, but there is a group I hate above all others: 

Fuck faces that drive sports cars.

YES! I said it! FUCK FACES that drive sports cars think they are better than the rest of us poor, ignoramuses driving our piddly little Nissans, Hyundais and Chevys around town. Lines are for us. Waiting is for us. Lane adherence is for us... the suckers.

Well let me whisper a little nugget in your ear... (deep breath)... you egocentric, vainglorious, self-aggrandizing, pompous asses... your car is going to cost one hell of a lot more to fix than mine, and if you think I'm going to let you cut in front of me one more time while you are jumping a line, you got another think comin' to ya, fuckers... I AIN'T MOVING!!! I had one little fucker in an Audi slam on his horn and flip me every one of his fingers before he got the right one this morning... and I stood my ground. I'd have happily endured the accident just to teach that ass-hat a lesson.

I'm so sick of people everywhere thinking lines don't apply to them. Waiting doesn't apply to them. Traffic doesn't apply to them. To this, I say... you better save your nickels for a jet pack, mother fucker... cause I am DONE with this butt-fuckery.

Of course, the jet packs would piss me off, too... but think how gratifying it would be to sit with a .22 and pick the little cock-knockers off... one by one... pew! pew! pew!

I know that is not politically sensitive, but I am a woman undone today!

My level of calm actually stayed in tact until I got to work and more of this fuckery rained down on my head. Vendors that seem to think they are above contract law, shysters, sleazebags and scammers intent upon squeezing every drop of money from a not-for-profit organization. Billing companies that refuse to provide actual bills for services rendered. Christ, it makes my already throbbing head want to 'splode.

It ain't pretty, lemme tells ya.

In an hour or so, I'll be on my way home to my precious ones to enjoy an evening of teen-aged angst and a double dose of PMS. Yes, both of my little darlings are synced now. I guess my spouse picked a very good week and a half to be away.

I am ugly, they are ugly... it's a whole mess up in here.

My youngest had a day like mine, only it was yesterday. Her friends are tool bags. Gah! I haven't seen such self involved little princesses since... well... since I was in school... oh and when I worked at the bank... and my last event at work... aw hell! I guess we're just surrounded with people who do not think past their own boundaries.

I, on the other hand spend an inordinate amount of time trying to think through another's actions and reactions... except for the fuck-faces in sports cars... they have no excuse.

So to each and every one of you twat-waffles, I flip you off! 

May the cockroaches from all the boroughs of New York infest your precious Audis, Jags, Mercedes and Mitsubishis (yeah... I'm talkin' to the orange one right there...) and eat you alive... slowly.





D-OUT