Ever have a day when a nasty person speaks to you the wrong way and you want to pull out a shotgun? Or at least say, "Get your bony ass out of my sight." That's Dish this Friday. Any number of things could have helped: the nice boy who opened a door for me, the coconut macaroon I scarfed after a grueling workout, Dr. Phil's gentle ministrations with a troubled family, a phone call from a celeb. Dish is still in Bitchtown (population: me). Maybe it's that I have to take the Staten Island Ferry this weekend. Like Samantha on SATC, I don't do burrough (anymore) and have added to my forbidden zones anything above 96th Street on either side. Watching Melanie Griffith in Working Girl might get me across that Superfreak of a river (don't tell me it's an ocean). Perhaps, too, if I get myself some Pall Malls and a tall beer, it'll ease my discomfort.
2 comments:
Hey, don't worry about it. Sometimes it doesn't even have to be someone who speaks nasty. It can be an ordinary mortal who happens to be in the wrong place at the right time.
Thanks, Anon. Glad you can sympathize. True--it doesn't take much to bring out my nasty. Sometimes, just seeing Dane Cook makes me violent.
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