My Story of Retribution and The “You Pissed me Off You Bastard” Blog..


My Song of Retribution via The “You Pissed me Off Blog”

Last week in my car whilst waiting for a spell for my children to return from their math tutor, a large black rolling living room pulled up along side of me.  The first inhabitant sitting in the backseat leaned toward their window, and threw all of his 60 lbs or so, of tutor-weary-angry-tiger-child right into throwing open that door right into the side of my car!  Big as a Mexico quake (too soon?..sorry), my car shook this Mexigringa right into next Tuesday and forced my shaken hand to load a screwed up Instagram photo. Okay, Hey! I was not done profusely editing my mediocre photo! ! I took a breath actually feeling sorry for a probable overwhelmed tiger-child who was obviously arriving to ‘tutoring’ at dinner time and I knew that must suck…when…a second door (this time the driver’s side) whipped open with wreckless abandon with ANOTHER CRASH RIGHT INTO MY CAR!! this time the driver’s door!  

The little snark’s mother now repeated his event right into my passenger side door!  Now I was done, fried, livid, seeing red and not about to sit there and ignore it, I got out of my seat and into the rain.  The sky had really opened up, but paying no mind to the rain, the heat traveled up my neck to my face and the top of my head, as I neared the snape who was exiting her door and grabbing her purse as I came around and yelled at her, “I CAN’T AFFORD THIS!!!  I CAN’T AFFORD THIS!!!…AGAIN…I CAN’T AFFORD THIS!!!  YOU SEE THE TWO DENTS? YOUR LITTLE SCHOLAR SLAVE  DID THE FIRST ONE AND I FIGURED KIDS MAKE MISTAKES, BUT NOW YOU DO IT TOO?  I CAN’T AFFORD THIS!!  she just looked at me wet hair, getting wetter, glaring with angry green eyes, my finger still pointing to the dents, she stared at me righteously,  collecting up her Juicy Couture overly patented bag, as her kid bounded past us into the tutoring center leaving his mother to deal with me. After what seemed like an eternity, she uttered,  “not my fault, sorry” as she pushed past me.  This woman did not offer to pay anything nor did she offer to help me.  I then yelled to her as she turned her back, I WAS GOING TO SELL MY CAR! BUT WHAT DO YOU CARE? YOU’VE GOT A ROLLING LIVING ROOM!  YOU SNAPE!  KEEP PLAYING SPONGEBOB UNTIL YOUR KID ROTS HIS MIND!”

She looked at me blankly over her shoulder. I was most certainly grabbing at straws.  I got back into my car, my head was hurting by that time, sorry that I used Spongebob in a negative manner, cuz I really love that guy.  I really do.  At least I said my peace. Later my boys got in my car, My hair all curly and ruined.  It was obvious I was out in the rain.  But why? The kids wondered. ‘Mom what happened?” “snapes” I said, “Snapes happened,  big rude, entitled uncaring snapes a whole family of them.” I continued, “now we’ve got two big dents in the side of the car !”  “‘who did it?”  my son Cameron persisted.  “A woman driving a Behemoth gas guzzling Suburban with multiple kid- stunners (movie screens), rolled up in all of her superiority and crushed the side of the honda’s doors!”  Cameron was livid. I had unknowingly transferred my anger to my freshly tutored “A” student who is taking criminal justice and was in the law and government program at his high school. I felt a little bad for synopsizing the event in such a railing way.  Maybe I should have just NOT told my kids?  Naw…the truth is always the way.  Of course Cam wanted to run recon and get pictures of the woman’s license plate once she returned to pick up her little uber-scholar-demon. Of course…. I let them.  I needed that plate anyway to litigate.  We actually waited for an hour after tutoring was done, (was I being a little maniacal?)  I wondered for a hot second but was back to my anger the next.  Later I posited that there must be a website where you can tell your story, and publicly shame someone.  Vindication!? was it to be had? at least online in a public forum before I did all the footwork to make her pay? Well I never found that site but tonight I sure found something funny called “you pissed me off you bastard” Click on the link under the title of this blog, and enjoy the restless griping within a well written blog.  This gentleman hails from  the UK and talks about things that piss him off in general.  The gripes are both large and small but the laughs are big.  Just what I needed to let off some of the steam!  Cheers!

Advertisements

Us, re-defined


What is in a name? Why do we need a name? No one likes to be classified. But look at names. When we are given one, do we struggle to ‘be the name’ or do we struggle to ‘break free of the preconceived notions associated with that name? My father argued loudly in favor of Daphne instead of Christine, but my mother ultimately unveiled the longer sword and my father backed down. I am sure he assumed he would be fed to the lions if he did not, as she frequently roared. Hence, I am not a ‘Daphne.’ My father was a great reader, an armchair politician if you will, who loved Greek literature. Mother simply thought he had dated a hussy named Daphne sometime in the past and wouldn’t have it. Plus it just sounded slutty. Doesn’t it? I too am wrangled in the scuttle about names! Although going through life as a “Christine” put a bit of undue pressure on me as we attended a Catholic Church every Sunday, my dedication to Christ was implied. I was “Christine” after all! But, should we be classified? Should we give our children a name to live under? Are they strong enough to re-define the name? Have we not at all at some time said, “oh yah…she LOOKS like a Christina, or a Charles or Maria? I am afraid we have.

Unfortunately a name affords another person the chance to classify you based on common assumptions associated with the name. Before knowing your nuances, your inner road map, folks are assuming your intelligence, your likes and idiosyncrasies. Yes I can choose a silly name convoluted and forced that may have markers that signify the listener as to my experential road and would simply function better in my life, but I keep the one I was given. Like an arranged marriage.

A name should be given by the named I now believe, with their personal indicators the driving force. So rise up against given names!!! (After we’ve solved global warming, The Afgan War of course, and oh just about a ton of other things we’ve got on our national agenda), and decry the travesty of it all!