Do-Overs

There are no life mulligan’s. Nothing is un-done. You cannot ‘take it back’ once it has come out, said loud enough for someone to hear. It is even worse in writing. Printable, save-able, forever.

You can occasionally fix broken things but they are still repaired, once broken, no longer new and there is a scar. Somewhere, someplace, a scar.

It is just dazzling to me that so  much can be done according to what has  requested, only to be considered all wrong.

Ever notice how seldom ‘good intentions’ are discussed unless along with an explanation of how something got so totally rat-fucked-up?

I’m torn between pointing out who and what I am pissed about or – to sit back and get all the replies from the lurkers asking if I am writing about  them. I like when you apologize to me on speculation. That’s a freaking hoot.  Saying your sorry for something you are not even sure you did!

How about this, next time you see my head do the Linda Blair, next time I cannot complete a sentence I am so unreasonably angry with you, apologize then, when you can be pretty damn sure you have actually done something to upset me.

Oh, by the way, if you do not want your sensitive little feelings hurt, believe me when I tell you I am in a bad mood and it would be best for us to not be near each other. If telling you that hurt your feelings, I can guarantee you would be a simpering, sobbing in the fetal-fucking-position wreck if you where anywhere near me. You have no idea what anger is. Nor can you see past your own selfish ‘I want what I want NOW’ desires to see when someone is actually trying to do something for you and not too you.

It seems of late that every time I do / do not do something in an effort to not upset someone, hurt their feelings, be mean or evil, they end up 3X as  upset. Well, fuck all of you. I am over it. Your gonna be pissed or hurt or what ever any way so why should I put in the extra effort to ‘be nice’ when it will only lead to the same result just a bit later? Make me go into the good intentions speech.

Have you ever heard about the guy who’s job it is to live atop a tree and watch for wisps of smoke? Out in nowhere with no one for hundreds of miles. Who’s ass do I have to kiss for that gig?

No peace, just waiting for 3M to sell spray-on Un-Fuck, Ant-Knee