As a raging bull of long standing--god, yes!
However, as a trembling coward of just as long standing—one who rolls herself up like a potato bug at the slightest hint of adversity--perhaps not so much.
The problem is that now that I’m off most of my meds, I careen like a pinball between these two rather polarized animal states. The raging bull who can’t wait to run out and slash the blonde’s tires evaporates, a mere six seconds later, into the potato bug who can’t wait to pretend that karma, given adequate time, will restore moral balance by slashing them for me.
The problem with the karma solution is that I’d have to smoke enough pot to turn my mind into that of a hippie’s, and I can’t even think about pot—or of hippies--without drifting—nay, hurtling—directly into insanity’s stratosphere.
Alternatively, the problem with the slashing solution is that the blonde might just retaliate by slashing my tires or, depending on how many meds she herself has stopped taking, running her Panzer over Boo Radley, who, despite being Boo Radley, does venture outdoors now and then to exult in its nature and chase the odd squirrel.
The only problem that really matters, of course, is that Panzers do not even have tires. I, or karma, would have to slash its fat treads.
As much as I believe that living well is still the best possible form of revenge, the fact (or rumor) that I’m not living at all pretty much makes that impossible. No, any pro-active revenge on my part has to be both quick and direct. And, of course, completely upsetting. Egregiously upsetting. Indelibly upsetting. Which leaves me with two obvious options:
Nominate her for What Not To Wear so that Stacy London can ruin her life not just in public but in perpetuity.
The only problem that really matters, of course, is that Panzers do not even have tires. I, or karma, would have to slash its fat treads.
As much as I believe that living well is still the best possible form of revenge, the fact (or rumor) that I’m not living at all pretty much makes that impossible. No, any pro-active revenge on my part has to be both quick and direct. And, of course, completely upsetting. Egregiously upsetting. Indelibly upsetting. Which leaves me with two obvious options:
Nominate her for What Not To Wear so that Stacy London can ruin her life not just in public but in perpetuity.
or:
Get Sandra Lee to take a hiatus from her Semi-Homemade Cooking Show to cater a dinner party on her behalf. Lee, who, like London, has clearly not eaten anything ever, will serve plastic lemons painted with grill marks and explain to all present what it means to be Semi-Insane. This explanation will begin with the cognitive triumph of semi meaning 70% and end with a table scape so . . . so . . . so . . . oh my god, I can’t even think of an adequate adjective---anyway, so Whatever It Is that would reduce Albert Speer’s Hitler’s Berlin to so much craft store pipe cleaning whimsy.
Trust me: I wish I had more, but the heat wave we're having has just poached my brain.
Get Sandra Lee to take a hiatus from her Semi-Homemade Cooking Show to cater a dinner party on her behalf. Lee, who, like London, has clearly not eaten anything ever, will serve plastic lemons painted with grill marks and explain to all present what it means to be Semi-Insane. This explanation will begin with the cognitive triumph of semi meaning 70% and end with a table scape so . . . so . . . so . . . oh my god, I can’t even think of an adequate adjective---anyway, so Whatever It Is that would reduce Albert Speer’s Hitler’s Berlin to so much craft store pipe cleaning whimsy.
Trust me: I wish I had more, but the heat wave we're having has just poached my brain.
Posts
Ooh - I'm all for Stacy and Clinton. Humiliation in reruns!
ReplyDeleteAnd Hank Fitz says it all starts once again on October 29! I'll watch if you will. Thank you, Tanita.
ReplyDelete