Just Because I am Obnoxious Doesn't Mean You Have To Be A BITCH About It!

If I have one major personality flaw, it is that I talk WAY too loud when nervous or excited. All those years of doing choir and theatre have given me the dubious gift of theatrical projection, perhaps in situations where being more quiet is warranted.

The funny thing is that I am sort of sensitive about it. I get upset when people give me shit about it. Maybe because they really mean it and are not playfully teasing. I don't know. But if you want to see me get pissed off in record time, give me shit about how much or how loudly I talk.

So, Colin and I went to the movies yesterday to see "Twilight" (the book is better, isn't it always?). Before the previews, we were chatting animatedly, like we generally do. Colin and I have the gift of gab together and have great, funny conversations about everything under the sun. The topic had veered onto a discussion about a friend who is very sick with a mysterious illness, and actually was a little serious.

But I guess I was talking too loud, and this woman sitting behind us kinda exploded at me. It went a little like this:

Me: So, they don't know what is wrong and they have done tests on about everything...

Colin: I hate to say this, but have they tested this person for Syphilis?

Me: Oh, I don't know if I could ask them that...


Crazy Bitch: Well, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!!!

Me: : Excuse me...

CB: You talk way to loud (hateful tone of voice and facial expression)

Me: Don't worry, I'll be quiet as a mouse during the movie.

CB: You'd better!

Me: (sarcastic, acid tone) Well, thank you so much for letting me know your concerns.

CB: (even more sarcastic and dripping with malice) You're welcome.

At this point, I notice the woman's young teenage daughter, with a face full of righteous fervor. I was just winding up to take this nutcase to school, but I saw that it was just going to get me kicked out of the theater, and it just wasn't worth it.

So I did some seething through the whole movie. I had let it go in terms of not having a major public altercation, but I was still pissed.

Why did she have to resort to totally hateful approach right off the bat? If she had approached me politely, I would have apologized sincerely and quieted down. I know I talk loud. I would have been embarrassed but not angry. I could have saved a little face, at least.

But no, she had to go nuclear as a first course. Honestly, I think that makes her the rude one. That made me defensive and bitchy. I have no patience for that. I was still mad when the movie was over and was prepared to confront her in the lobby, but they skedaddled as soon as the credits started rolling.

They are probably high-fiving at brunch today about how they bitch-slapped me. But don't piss me off, or I will probably write about it. Jerks.

I'm a sweet person, really. But I have a temper.

It is her loss. She's the one with the ugly wrinkles from frowning and the daughter who will turn out to be a judgmental bitch. I wonder how that is going to work out for her when the time comes to pick out her nursing home?

Or maybe her daughter will get syphilis. Seems her mother wants her shielded from hearing about it. I don't think purity rings guard against that, though.

Disturbance in the Force

Dude. I feel funky. Something is up; I just don't know what it is yet. I'm just sitting here at work and for NO reason I am feeling almost like crying. Something is wrong somewhere.

I am often right about these things, and I hate that. I'm just trying to BREATHE, because I am on the verge of a panic attack over nothing. Just because I am paranoid doesn't mean the world isn't out to get me, you know? :)

If you read this and are in the inner circle, drop me a little note to let me know you are cool, okay?

Otherwise, soothing noises and petting are in order. I will chill eventually, but if bad news happens today, consider yourself warned.

Nothing in particular is up with me. Other than the fact that the vet wants to do an ultrasound on Sasha (our black lab mix doggie) to see if she has liver cancer. But that isn't scheduled yet.

****UPDATE, 8:26 am*****

I figured it out within 2 phone calls. My dad has another intestinal blockage. This has almost killed him a number of times, and he had a pretty major surgery for it last year that removed a section of dead small intestine. I will await further news.

I'm not crazy, YOU ARE.

To the mentally unhinged woman that left me over 30 voice mails at work over the weekend:

1. Oh. My. God. Get help. Get help right now before you hurt yourself, or worse yet, someone else.

2. You are not a "devout Christian" like you say you are. You are a raving lunatic who needs medicine ASAP.

3. God does not kill people at your request, no matter how much you pray.

4. Nobody has stolen your organs, so they can't be given back to you.

5. I don't think you are even aware that you were leaving that many voice mails, or even that you were speaking into a recording.

6. You scared the crap outta me. Just the sound of your raving sent a chill down my spine and brought me to tears.

7. Accusing innocent and perhaps imaginary people of murdering children is an innapropriate use of government resources.

8. You don't know me at all, and for that I am grateful. But I had to listen to each and every one of your messages to ensure that our staff was not being directly threatened with harm.

9. Who knows if we will even find you, since you didn't say your name and we can only guess.

10. Thank you for ruining my morning. You may be excused.

And for anybody in my life who has ever called me crazy. You are just wrong.