Yesterday, after bringing up the season finale of 3rd Watch, I received two phone calls, one post, and one email. And then, go figure, I became super busy. I sort of summed up the ending in yesterday’s post. If you wish to go there and read about it, that’s cool. It’s not super exciting, but Toby did explain where and how our conversation about American television came to be, and that’s probably more exciting than my rather pathetic description of 3rd Watch. To be honest, you had to see it. It was purely a visual thing and truly well filmed, in my opinion.
Last night I saw a shoe advertisement, I can’t even remember who it was for. I think DMW or some other acronym. Anyway, it was super cute. And it worked! I put a zip car on hold and headed out for some late evening shopping at Target with Toby. We spent a small fortune. I bought some more candles and some clothing, spring-like shirts, and some work out clothing because I’m getting tired of doing laundry every time I go to yoga.
When we returned home, we found that some wacknut had parked his or her GIANT suv in the Zip Car spot. Which sucks for a number of reasons. 1). I get charged if I have the car past my normal time and if I can’t park it, lock it and be done with it, well that could easily happen. 2). It’s an SUV and I hate them. 3). A tow-truck would have a serious problem trying to tow this damn car because of how the parking spot is laid out. 4). It was late. I wanted to light my candles and try on my new cloths. So we sat there, angry. Toby went upstairs to find someone who cared. No one did. So we decided to take matters into our own hands. I called Zip Car to work out the issue, they were super cool. As we were dialing the last digit to the tow-truck, a guy walks out of the Dorchester claiming the giant car. And it was then I realized something, when I saw a face and he began to explain, most all of my anger left me. It’s really very easy to HATE someone without a face and a name, to hate the mere idea of them, which, you and only you have created. My mind was filling with ideas such as filling the front driver seat with cat food or writing a nasty note about how stupid he or she is. That’s not nice. This was not nice. I can’t say I’m proud of this. But it’s a damn fine recipe for a bloody war. ;]
So the next time I become fuming angry with an object and I begin to hate a person I have basically created in my head using the worst parts of my own mind, I’m going to remember that no one is that evil and that I’m being a poopie pants man.
That’s my long, silly lesson for myself today. (Damn, this post is long. Sorry).
Please note: That does NOT mean that if some bitchy-lip-lined-slut-mama-ho asks me for a bathroom pass or five dollars to use the restroom at Loreal Plaza I will not seriously consider kicking her stupid ass all over the sticky floor in margarita land.