PlazaJen: Passion Knit

The older I get, the more I can see the side of me that is forgiving, and tolerant, and understanding. However, I often slam the door on that person within me, opting instead for the sharp-tongued, acerbic, and, dare I say, funnier person. I blame my father, for fostering in me the mind sprints to seek the humor, as fast as possible, and to grab it at the heart & rip it out for all to enjoy. A bit brutal, yes.

I re-sharpen my tongue daily. One poor (unknowing, unwitting, rather dim individual) got me going again yesterday. In our house, she is known as "(NAME), PRESIDENT OF HER UNDERPANTS!" because she uses her title EXCESSIVELY - especially when she calls, as though she's getting a table at Le Cirque. Oh, mais oui, mademoiselle presidente! May we serve you complimentary Cristal for the pleasure of your company gracing our world-class restaurant?! No, no, we cannot take your money, it is NO GOOD here. Good god. I could just go on and on, but that would cross the line from acerbic sideline commentary into taking it all too seriously myself. Suffice it to say, I can't help but dabble with vicious back-stabbing, if only for the amusement of my friends. You could say it makes me less of a person than her, but sweet mother, she makes the humor-poking so easy! It's that whole fish-in-a-barrel thing. And if she didn't act like she's better than everyone, and that her ass, and her ass alone smells like roses all day long, I honestly wouldn't get so wound up. That's probably why I got so wound up all the time at my last job - so many people with inflated egos, bad management skills, and no desire to look at any shortcomings so they could improve things. Perhaps I like therapy too much - the examination of all of my own issues, faults, missteps and mistakes, but I think there's something be said from learning from them, not ignoring them, or living in la-la land.

If I were a short-order cook (and I am short), I'd have a sign in my restaurant. It'd say: "Humility. Served Daily." There'd also be lots of swearing. And a twelve-gauge under the counter. But also pie! There would be all kinds of pie! A la mode! Because pie without ice cream is like a kiss without a hug & a squeeze.