Category Archives: Rage

How to Properly Hate the New Administration.

I need to find a constructive way to channel my anger. More constructive, that is, than daily insulting Tweets aimed at Trump and occasional baiting of vocal white supremacists online. It’s not wrong to do those things, exactly – but those activities don’t have any real impact. I may as well stroll pass the white house and give Donald the finger.

Oh! I have relevant media to share! Here are a few non-violent ways to express yourself in the coming weeks and months.

 

Also, call your representatives and let them know what you’d like them to do. Thank them when they do their job. We’ll all get through this together.

Fall Food, Fake-Looking Flowers, and other F-Words

The illustration aside, I don’t really hate Fall. By-and-large it’s an ok season. I was always a nerd who looked forward to school starting, so it does still hold the promise of new beginnings. I still get that. The clothes are ok — and I would give pumpkins a pass if they were not shoved into every food and beverage on every menu.

But you know, Autumn also marks the end of summer. It’s a harbinger of Winter, which does not charm me at all. And mums shouldn’t even qualify as flowers.

Tuesday was a Carnival of Suck, and It’s My Fault For Getting Out of Bed

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Misstep #1: Waking up

I wanna shoot the whole day down. It just got off on the wrong foot, and then it stumbled awkwardly on that wrong foot from hour to hour like a drunk in an old-timey picture show.

First, I woke up in a crap mood. I had a dream that was vaguely boring and vaguely annoying that left me feeling equal parts bored and annoyed when I woke up.

It was cloudy outside. My pajamas felt all twisty. I could have used another hour of sleep. I was thirsty for juice, and I had no juice. What smells like onion? Everything was wrong, but it was just a bunch of inconsequential little things.

It had been foretold. Even my horoscope has been warning me to just sit this month out. Mercury is retrograde and something about eclipses forming a kind of Bermuda Triangle of unremitting badness and blah blah blah. Basically, I need to lay low until everything is done eclipsing.

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My actual horoscope.

But I don’t believe in astrology. I believe in science. So I said “to hell with this,” took a hot shower, put on a black dress and my black knee-high boots, pulled my hair back in a pony-tail and started my day like a champ.

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Ready(ish) to face the day.

Things begin to fall apart. I got in my car and noticed I was low on gas. No problem, I thought. I’ve got this. I pulled into the Hess station and filled the tank. Paid with my debit card. While I was filling the tank, I put the debit card on the trunk of my car. I distinctly remember thinking “Don’t forget the debit card. Boy would it suck to lose your debit card. Ha ha.” (We all know where this is story is headed at this point, right?)

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I got back into my car and drove in to my office. Found a space – filled the older meter with quarters. No problem! Attended a couple of meetings, got some work done, and headed back out to move my car when the 2-hour meter was up. Found a new space, parked, pulled out my wallet to pay the meter with my debit card and…IT WAS GONE OH MY GOD, YOU NEVER EXPECTED THAT, DID YOU?

I searched my car. I searched my jacket pocket. I went through every card in my wallet multiple times. I looked in every likely and unlikely place for the debit card. I knew on some level that it was gone forever — that the triangle of celestial doom had cast it’s evil hoo-doo on my debit card as punishment for my hubris.

Every stranger that passed me on Boylston Street seemed to be laughing at my woe like a Greek chorus. Taunting me.

The wind. It’s important to note that it was a particularly windy day in Copley Square. Back Bay tends to be windier than other areas of town, so on a gusty day, you can find yourself walking into the wind at a 45-degree angle, screaming — but producing no audible sound.

When I finally accepted that the debit card was gone, I fished out some quarters, fed the meter, got my little meter-sticky to attach to the inside of my driver’s side window. Just when I was affixing the meter sticky to the window, a great gust blew up from under my legs, sending my dress up, up, up and into my face, exposing my undercarriage while I struggled to hold onto the very important sticker (bought with the last of my available funds).

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The universe conspired to make this happen.

I don’t understand why Marilyn Monroe seemed to enjoy the gusty up-skirt experience. I guess she didn’t have the meter to contend with, or the astrological admonitions. All I know is that I did not look or feel glamorous in any way. I hope to Christ nobody caught it on camera.

Minutes later, a plastic shopping bag came flying toward my face as I crossed Copley Square to go to my bank. I punched it away with the grim resignation of a hardened soldier.

50 Ways to Give the Finger: #6 – The Guns-A-Blazin’ Finger

The Guns-A-Blazin’ Finger. In a perfect world, there would be no need for the Guns-A-Blazin’ Finger to exist. Its overt intentional stupidity is an affront to the cool, subtle je ne sais quoi of the Classic Finger. So, unless you are an actual rodeo clown or Randy Quaid, keep the G.A.B holstered, cowboy.

What it communicates to the recipient: Yee-haw! Don’t touch my truck! You cain’t fight good ’cause you done gone to school. Whadayou, gay or somethin’? Yee-haw!

When to use it: The G.A.B. Finger has 2 acceptable uses: Ironic, self-aware administration of the G.A.B is (almost) acceptable with friends and family. Non-ironic use is only acceptable at rodeos, saloons, carnivals, and line-dancing events — and then only by actual assholes.

UP NEXT: #7 – The Action Finger

Am I Possessed By a Demon? 6 Crucial Questions

Are you feeling a little…off? Concerned about the possibility of a demonic possession? Ask yourself these 6 questions before performing any rituals to banish evil beings to the infinite, dark purgatory from whence they came.

girl-eating-raw-meat1. What are my eating habits?

Have you taken your paleo diet to extremes, binging on live farm animals and forsaking vegetables altogether? When you do consume simple grains and vegetables, do you find yourself projectile vomiting the contents of your lunch in a 360-degree pattern around the edge of the room without moving your torso? It might be time to purge servant of Beelzebub that has chosen your body as host in the mortal sphere.

scared-mailman2. Have I experienced voice changes?

Does your voice ever change pitch dramatically to a gravelly bass in the middle of a conversation with the bank teller or postman? So embarrassing! Keep in mind that voice changes may just indicate seasonal allergies, not the wrath of a demon whose name shall never be spoken. You might find a humidifier helpful in the short term.



3. Have my feet changed appearance?

Everyone’s feet get tired and cracked, especially if you’ve recently changed your fitness routine. But put down the pumice stone and see an exorcist if your feet suddenly become hoofed or cloven. No amount of lotion can salve the limbs of the Dark Lord’s minions.IMG_0338

505c7a14h.300id.8449m.fillw_24. Has my taste in music suddenly and inexplicably changed?

If you find yourself singing in an ancient language that is incomprehensible at a pitch that cannot be registered by mortals, it might be time to see a priest or shaman.

 

5. Is my face breaking out?

As if you don’t have enough problems, right? Few people realize that adult-onset acne is one of the common signs of demonic possession.

images (1)6. How are others behaving toward me?

Are children running from your terrifying visage when you approach? Have family members tied you to a bed and called a priest or shaman in for a friendly visit? You may be the mortal host to an evil demon or poltergeist. Talk to your doctor.

50 Ways to Give the Finger: #4 – The Mental Finger

IMG_0330The Mental Finger

On the Kung Fu television series, Master Kan advised Caine, his young student, that “Weakness prevails over strength. Gentleness conquers. Become the calm and restful breeze that tames the violent sea.”

Administration of the Mental Finger is an exercise in self-control. It is not for the weak- willed, and can take many years of training to master. The Mental Finger is used when a Continue reading

50 Ways to Give the Finger: #2 – The “I-don’t- even-have-time-for-this” Finger

Photo 2014-09-16 04.19.53 PMThe “I-don’t- even-have-time-for-this” Finger The key to the “I Don’t Even” is the lack of eye contact, because you have places to go, damn it. This form of Fuck You is the equivalent of blowing smoke in the recipient’s face and then turning back to your conversation. Sorry, I had to deal with a moron. Where were we?

What it communicates to the recipient: I have given a shit about many things in my life, but your insignificant ass hardly registers as a blip on my “Fuck That” radar.

When to use it: Stuck in Pike traffic and some moron in a Prius is up your ass with his horn? Flip him the “I Don’t Even.” Getting catcalls from half-drunk college dudes while walking in Kenmore Square? Those dudes deserve the education that an “I Don’t Even” can provide.

UP NEXT: #3: The Mutually Acknowledged Finger