A hint.

This is a tattoo I designed for my husband.It's a cartoon version of moi. Don't mind the perspective there.

Answers to your Comments

You all kill me....

Comment 1- Wow! You certainly have quite the temper! I guess it sucks when someone doesn't like what you wrote and takes a shot.
Response: Temper? Um, obviously. I'm a jaded gal. Do I care if you like what I write or how I write it? *snort* You're obviously missing the point of my blog, "Anonymous".

Comment 2-you must make it up i dont understand u
Response- The truth is far too much fun, my dear.

Comment 3- ...I'm curious, was your mother really that domineering or are you just a nasty person? (also) You need to work on your tenses.
Response-I'm just a nasty person. And if you never resisted the urge to do something about a screaming child, you're a liar. Oh, and I'm not here to be graded on sentence structure and spelling. As you'd imagine, it is the least of my concerns.

Comment 4- You cant spell
Response- And you can't use an apostrophe.

You Cowards.

Look, don't waste my time leaving a comment if you're too chicken-shit to leave your name or something. Afraid I'm going to track you down if I don't like what you wrote?

And to the smart-ass who asked why I didn't post her comment: It's because you're stupid, not because I didn't appreciate your humorous critique and all its errors. Hello, Pot.

The Kid makes a good point....

I would have written this myself.

Animals with Light Sabers

I stared at this at laughed for like, 20 minutes. Gean. Total gean. (That means genius, to all of you ignorant folks...)

I think the kudos go to the website animalswithlightsabers.com. I'm not sure, cause this was forwarded to me. This is the kind of stuff I seriously imagine when I look at similar photos, only I am too lazy to figure out how Photoshop works.

Again, it's the little things that crack me up.

The Time I Tripped a Kid On the Bus.

There's something you should know about NYC Transportation....it sucks.

Introverts like me can't stand being around people or being forced to touch them, but in NYC, you don't have a say-so in this matter. You take public transpo, and sooner or later, you're going to be forced to smash your butt cheeks against a burly stranger in a puffy jacket and both of you will pretend not to notice how awkward it is.

After one shitty day at work, I was sighing my way through Union Square traffic, when this kid and his mom hopped aboard, and because it was SRO at this point, it was necessary for them to plant their backsides in front of me. Now, I only had two stops left before my freedom on 1st street, but you gotta understand...I had a really bad day.

The kid, I don't know...about 6 or something, proceeds to sing "The Star-Spangled Banner" over and over again, interrupted several times by asking if they were going to McDonalds after this. Then he begins to sway back and forth, (dancing?) as he starts up another round of screeching patriotism. My teeth are gritting, fists clenching--how can his mother be immune to this? Did she not teach him what an "Inside Voice" is? Was my mother the only one in the world who sent me rolling over like a submissive dog if I so much as peeped for gum at the store?

Next stop comes, folks get off; just one more....oh God, just let me make it to one more stop....

Less folks mean room for aisle racing. This kid begins to hop up and down the gap between his mother and the seats behind me, bumping my arm and dislodging more of my sanity at each pass.

"Caleb...settle down, honey," Mom says, barely looking up from her newspaper. No, he can't hear you. He's on the third verse of our National Anthem, mama.

My foot sneaks out to the aisle. It's involuntary, I swear.

WHACK! Who would have thought a 6 year old could pack such a wallop?

He lays there, stunned. Somewhere in the back of the bus, someone snickers.

"Caleb! I told you to settle down!" Mom grabs his arm, hoists him up. She glances at me, and my eyes avert down to my CD player. "I'm sorry!" she mouths, smiling. I shrug, like it's no big deal, like "Hey, he wasn't bothering me."

I will not lie. It felt great.

However, other reasons persuaded me to begin taking the subway home, which was a shame, because not many young kids take the subway. Still, I found great satisfaction in remaining seated as old or pregnant folks glared at me.

Those bench seats are pretty roomy.

It's One Of Those Days...

Today, I've decided I hate everyone I see.

I'm walking around, glaring, so that people will just BACK THE FUCK OFF.

I also have new red hair, so I'm feeling pretty froggy.

I just don't want to be bothered, don't want to hold open doors for anyone or hold the elevator, I don't want to make small talk with the peppy little freaks at Starbucks, and I don't want to tell anyone "Nice to meet you!" IT'S NOT NICE TO MEET YOU.

I want to tell my boss "Do it yourself, bitch," I want to park in the Handicapped spot, and I want to tap my foot at the bastard at the Self-Checkout ahead of me, while I take my time in front of the person behind me. I want to trip the snotty little brat screaming and running in the aisles of the theater and I certainly don't want to apologize for it.

In fact...I don't even want to write this stupid blog anymore.