Tantrum

Yes. I am 40 years old and I still have tantrums. They are awesome tantrums,  I mean, I have turned being ancient yet acting like a newbie into a fucking art form. But I surmise that in this case, I am entitled to my frustration induced tantrum.

Went out today feeling pretty good on two hours of sleep following a hypomanic episode.

It crashed down on my head like a trash truck compacting bags of garbage, for the cold caused the door to stick and not close. I had to drive home holding the door closed because I have no clue how to “fix” this thing, which has happened twice now this winter. I mean, seriously? I went from an 88 to a 95, this is SUPPOSED TO BE A MOTHERFUCKING UPGRADE. The doors on the dinosaur NEVER got stuck.

I was ranting and swearing and acting quite like a psycho hose beast because I can barely get two days with this “newer” car without it having some new fucking issue. This week it fucking busted some part that caused all the oil to drain out and I had to enlist R to fix the fucking thing for me. And that’s one more stressor because I am seriously hating on the man for being a self absorbed ass who dumped me married someone far more fucking irritating than me and has no excuse except crappy personality…

But ya know, he’s the one who told me to buy the car because it was working perfectly and reliable. He had even said I w0uld be able to buy it $300 cheaper than I did, but the guy wouldn’;t budge for me because apparently, there is a penalty fee for HAVING A VAGINA. So while my independent feminazi side loathes having to ask R any kind of help…

My evil side keeps pointing out he’s the one who gave the car a thumbs up and it has been nothing but one problem after another, so maybe he should fucking suffer the same consequences as me. Petty?> Perhaps. But my anger has been violent lately, so it’s really tough to have an attack of conscience when it’s all you can do not to wish someone dead simply for irritating you.

I had to call Kenny to come over and “fix” the door problem. He got an earful from me about R’s wife and her whole “did you forget to clean the living room because you did it better than I can” call. I am just disgusted and pissed off to the nth degree about that and I know it’s asinine, I just can’t seem to convince my brain to cut it the fuck the loose. Kenny hugged me and said, “:Take it easy.” HA! Panic attacks and anger issues know not what he speaks of!

My dad seems to think I am being a princess because, well, shit happens and cars need repairs.

DUH! I get this.

But I went from a car with a cosmetic blemish that still ran like a swiss watch to this pretty car that has more problems than a pregnant nun, so excuse the fuck out of me for being FUCKING PISSED. I was told it was in perfect working order thus I expected it to be. Two months and it has left me stranded three times and with doors hanging open twice.

This “upgrade” blows goats.

I hate that car with every fibre of my being and curse myself for every getting the crazy idea that change was necessary and I had to force myself to do it.

Deviation is bad.

Bad, bad bad.

I have no stability in my own mind, now I am dealing on a daily basis with a car that keeps telling me “fuck you.”

Stressed out doesn’t begin to cover it. Pissed off is an understatement.

I may not be conducting myself with any dignity or maturity by having screaming mimis but you know what?

I don’t fucking care.

Now…the only thing that is keeping me from gargling bleach on this day of tantrums and psychologically  blinding anger. It’s just an awesome song. I have a total crush on it. Don’t fucking ask me why.

I’m mentally wonky. ‘Nuff said.

(On an end note, to the blogger idiot who said Jared Leto is an excellent actor but his band sucks…YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY AN IDGET AND JARED LETO SHOULD QUIT ACTING IN WHAT THE FUCK BIZARRO MOVIES AND MAKE MORE MUSIC BECAUSE AT THE MOMENT THE BAND’S MUSIC IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME FROM COMMITTING RANDOM ACTS OF VIOLENT ACTING OUT!!!!!!)

I’m not crazy.

My mother had me tested.

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