July 03, 2004

How About A Nice, Hot Cup Of Go Fuck Yourself?

Yes, I know…I'm behind. I know it, you know it, and the less said about it the better.

Here's the thing…I know I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. I'm aware of it. Every time I get a bad headache, it's an aneurysm. Back problems mean I'm almost crippled. Every time my fairly manageable and not-serious stomach condition flares up, I'm convinced that it's evolved into an Alien that's about to burst through my abdomen. My nearest and dearest are used to this by now.

"Oh great...Naked ate dairy food...here we go again..."

Of course, none of this should lessen the impact when serious things do happen to me. Like last week…I had a seizure.

I'm prone to them…I've had them since I was about 13 years old. It happens once every couple of years, usually brought on in times of serious stress. I've been tested for epilepsy four times, and I don't have it. It's pretty much just a fact of life that I deal with.

So I had one the other morning, and as I result, I've been pretty much worthless for a few days. I've had a bad headache (and a nasty bump on the noggin) and a lot of thinking and worrying too much. Me being me, I'm half-convinced that I'm going to be fired from Day Job for missing time. But hey, that's me…I'm kind of nuts.

So anyway, after a couple of days off, not moving much, I figured I had to get out of the apartment for at least a walk, otherwise I'd develop Cabin Fever. So, I took a stroll down to the local video store to rent a few DVDs. Picked up "Big Fish", "Monster", and "Badder Santa" - the "uncut" version of "Bad Santa".

I watched "Badder Santa" first, but the disc was damaged. At least five times it stopped or played at 1/10th the proper speed. Needless to say, I was annoyed. So, I took it back to the store to get a credit and to make sure they took it off the shelf.

It's 11pm…the store is closing soon. I walk in, and there's one clerk working…the other one is chasing a moth around the store. Don't ask.

"I'll help you over here, sir," says the clerk. I take three steps toward him, and nearly get BOWLED OVER by some BITCH and her BITCH DAUGHTER charging the clerk. The Bitch wheels to me and snarls "I was here FIRST."

Now, keep in mind, I've got a short fuse…something I've been working on keeping under control for years. On the plus side, I've done well at controlling it. On the down side, my brain is still scrambled from the seizure. But, I took the high road.

"Clearly, you WEREN'T first," I point out. "He just offered to help me."

"WE'RE FIRST!" she repeats loudly…because, you know, obviously I hadn't HEARD her the first time.

So, knowing that Morn was waiting out in the car, and knowing how pissed she'd be knowing that I'd blown my stack and destroyed all my years of anger management, I took a deep breath and decided to take the high road.

"For an important woman like you, I'll wait," I said…hoping that my voice was as dripping with sarcasm as I'd wanted.

So they hand over their Lindsay Lohan / Mandy Moore / Hilary Duff crapfests to the clerk, who gives me a "What can you do?" look. He turns back to Bitch and Bitchette and says "Can I have your membership card?"

"Oh, we don't have one," Bitch replies.

"Well, you'll need to fill this out," says clerk, rolling his eyes at me and handing over a form. "Do you have 2 pieces of ID?"

"Ohhhh…let me see," says Bitch. She opens her purse and starts s-l-o-w-l-y and d-e-l-i-b-e-r-a-t-e-l-y sorting through her stuff. She then looks up at me, her eyes saying "Fuck you, pal" and smirking. She's PURPOSELY taking her time.

So, at this point, my blood temperature is roughly 174 degrees. Since I lack the ability to actually SEE my own face, I can only speculate, but I assume it resembled a plump, ripe cherry tomato. Clerk Dude sees this, and calls out to the moth-chaser "Could you PLEASE come over here and help this gentleman?"

Moth-Chaser comes over, I explain what happened with the DVD, she apologizes, puts it under the counter to get it out of circulation, and credits my account. The entire transaction takes about 15 seconds.

This should placate me, but it doesn't. Because Bitch, between yelling at me, and slowly going through her purse like a twat, has actually burned MORE time than it would have taken for me to return the DVD and get my credit. For someone in a hurry, she's WASTED more time than she would have saved. There are 2 scenarios for this…scenario 1, and the more likely, is that she had no idea how quick I would be, and was trying to save time, even though she acted like a twat. Scenario 2 is much more unlikely, but makes me feel better. Scenario 2 is that she's an evil douchenozzle who is only loved by her immediate family out of a sense of familial duty.

And it's Scenario 2 that was going through my head as I strolled over to Bitch and Bitchette on the way out and - quietly and calmly - said "I hope the BOTH of you contract a painful venereal disease," before walking out.

Sure, it's a terrible thing to say to someone, but let me offer these three things in my defense:

1 - I was recovering from a seizure, so my brain was still a little scrambled, synapses firing when they shouldn't be firing.
2 - Whoever she is, she's an evil cooze who actually DESERVES to contract a venereal disease
3 - As I explained to Morn in the car, after telling her the story and seeing her disappointed expression, "Hey…I'm getting better. I was GOING to wish cancer on her! At least a venereal disease is less serious! And it's FUNNIER!

She'll never admit it, but she laughed.

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