Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Bad Mood

Quote of the day: “You’re so bad at computers, you should be a caveman.” ~ Mike Birbiglia

Song of the day: “Fast As You Can” by Fiona Apple

State of mind: better then yesterday (see below)

Date: 8/24/05

Ever have one of those days where you are in such a mood that just the sound of someone’s voice made you want to rip their head off and shove copious amounts of office supplies down their throat? I did yesterday and this is why: I had a dream that stellar killed a kitten. Choked it to death, right in front of me. And it took forever too, which was both horrifying and pathetic. Horrifying because as is true in most dreams, you witness something horrible happening and you can’t do anything about it and pathetic because, come on, how long does it take to choke a cat anyhow? Wimp. (I knew it was stellar in that way that in dreams even though you are standing in the middle of the mall, you know that it is your house. I’ve never actually met the man, and have no clue why he would hate cats so much.)
The thing is, I knew I was in a foul mood and that it was no one’s fault, so even though I could have easily used my pen to end someone, I held my temper. You can call it what you will: repression, a heart attack waiting to happen, or composure. I prefer composure.
Everyone has bad days. It’s just a fact. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. The thing that drives me insane though, are the people who try and force you out of a bad mood or give you flak because of it. To those people I ask: you wanna go little man!?
The rules are simple. Talk clearly, get to the point, and don’t make eye contact. Is that too much to ask? Don’t tell me jokes, or tell me to smile. (Have you ever heard of a guy telling another guy to smile?) Don’t ask half a question and then trail off. If you haven’t got it in your mind EXACTLY what you need from me, then don’t interrupt me. I’m not your damn sounding board. Don’t ask stupid question. And for the love of all that is holy, be specific! Do not make me guess. You will not like the answer I come up with.
After I got home I was able to put myself in a better frame of mind by making a dinner that I would not regret later, (like say, a bag of Doritos or a candy bar), and watching Jon Stewart. (That man could make Mt. Rushmore crack a smile.) I also found that if you really want to get rid of a bad mood, it actually helps if you do something nice for someone else. Odd, but true.
I awoke much refreshed and less likely to maim because last night I had no dreams of a kitty killing blogger. (That bastard!)

Angel quote of the day:
Cordelia: If Julia Roberts ever makes a realistic movie about being an escort, I think it should be called “Pretty Skanky Woman”.

21 comments:

John said...

Killing kitties is nature's way of saying "I really hate cats."

Henry said...

"Hahuhuh It's funny cuz it's true."



---Homer Simpson

NYPinTA said...

*sigh* meanies.

Stellar said...

While I'm truly honored that I would appear in your dream, I'm sorry it was under such circumstances.

I had a dream that stellar killed a kitten. Choked it to death, right in front of me.

I think that I can improve this dream with a thesaurus. With a synonym here and a euphamism there I think we can turn this dream into something positive for all parties. Actually, you may want to check Freud. I think this is up for interpretation.

I don't hate cats. I'm a dog person, but I had a cat as a child, Fluffy. No foul play was suspected in his death. I did own a Nile Monitor named Romeo. He lived for about six years.

Should I have any dreams about you mishandling my lizard, I'll let you know.

;)

trinamick said...

Stellar would never hurt a kitten. That's John's work (remember the woodchipper?) However, Stellar is a monkey-hating bastard, so he's still not off the hook.

Stellar said...

She's right. I've hated a monkey or two in my day. They're smug.

NYPinTA said...

They're smug
That reminds me of this thing a local radio station would play. This guy with a heavy accent would tell this story:
I like Monkeys
I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for 5¢ a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys. I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing. I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour. Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys. I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys. I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad. I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed. I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad. I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire. Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving. I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better. I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones. I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals. I like monkeys.

trinamick said...

ROFLMAO! That's getting put on my fridge.

mr. schprock said...

So then one of my friends asked what I called all those dead, frozen, charred, wet monkeys. So I said, "The Aristocrats!"

LL said...

I'm amazed there was not one reference to spanking a monkey in there.

As for your dreams, I can't help you there. Everyone knows Stellar chokes his chicken, not a cat. I mean c'mon... what were you thinking?

" I also found that if you really want to get rid of a bad mood, it actually helps if you do something nice for someone else. "
BTW, what did you do exactly?

NYPinTA said...

I didn't say I did anything nice. Just that it's one way to get rid of a bad mood.

cali said...

That "I like monkeys" story is freakin hilarious! You should post it even if its not yours.
Okay, so i forgot what i came here to say now. Something about your dreaming about bloggers i think.

cali said...

Oh yeah and watchin Jon Stewart and doin good things for others :)

Beth said...

Bad days. Had one of those yesterday. I'm figuring out that I don't like to be talked to in the morning. If I don't make direct eye contact, this should tell my family to "stay away". Haha.

Stellar said...

Everyone knows Stellar chokes his chicken, not a cat. I mean c'mon... what were you thinking?

Do we really want to venture down the farm animal road, LL? Something about you, g_s and ewe?

John said...

Hey, don't drag me into Grizzly Adams' sick beasteality fantasy.

LL said...

"Do we really want to venture down the farm animal road, LL? Something about you, g_s and ewe?"

Eh... if that bothered a guy like me, I'd have never told anyone about it. Now g_s on the other hand, he just demonstrated that he's not quite over it yet...

Stellar said...

Nor is the sheep, I imagine.

NYPinTA said...

Could you guys take your farm animal fetish someplace eles? Thanks.

Stellar said...

Touchy, touchy... what did I choke this time?

JustTerry said...

Ever have one of those days where you are in such a mood that just the sound of someone’s voice made you want to rip their head off and shove copious amounts of office supplies down their throat?

I live my entire life this way