Be The Anger Ball


Earlier today, I was all ready to HATE on someone... truly just unload on their buttocks... and then my plan crash landed into a gorge of smoldering stale marshmallows.

Don'cha hate when that happens? Those moments where you work yourself up to a firecracker frenzy and when it comes to finally blowing up, you're tossed a roadblock that kills your momentum.

Or when you pump yourself full of roid rage and rip off your elastic pants like the Incredible Hulk and are ready to just punch someone's freakin' head off when some happy little prissy go-bucky has to soften you up and turn you into the Jolly Green Giant.

Those times that you grab your hair and go AHHHHHHHHHH and grip your fists into a trembling rocket of GO-POW but are led to unclench and skip around like a freakin' sassafras.

The occasions where you're chasing angerly after a morbidly obese dog because it slobbered all over your brother's brand new Geoffrey Bean change purse which contains 57¢ and a coupon for Super Stretch Fruit-of-the-Looms and then a car hits you.

I was an angry anger ball of bonsai ready to kung-fu chop a customer service chap, but became bittersweetly buttered up and beaming by bedtime.

Don't you friggen' hate that?

I also hate build ups that lead nowhere.



Wishing Danika (Missy Elliot Girl [MEG]) a happy sappy birthday,

Ricky
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