Ever Been Pissed the F*ck Off???

I don’t normally drive into work, but yesterday I had to. I had the most pressing appointment. I had to meet with my aesthetician.

What is an aesthetician? Well, if you don’t know then perhaps you should use your Wiki skills and find out; because I refuse to go into all that with you at this juncture.

I left well before my appointment time; approximately 40 minutes. Don’t even try and doubt me, I’ve done this before. As a fabulous Diva who is aware of aesthetic upkeep, I attend without fail every six weeks. It’s the most religious I have ever been since I was forced to go to church every Sunday during childhood.

Unfortunately the city of Madison decided that now was a good time to tear University Avenue the fuck up; it’s THE major thoroughfare that leads you into the west-side from downtown. At the present moment,University Avenue is comparable to the former Yugoslavia in the 1990's.

I had maneuver carefully through the aforementioned war zone littered with orange barrels which were strategically placed like land mines. Oh, but wait... I also proceeded to hit every fucking red light on University Avenue. I can’t recall how many there were, but what I CAN tell you is that I became so enraged that at the intersection of one University Avenue and Allen Boulevard, I became unglued.

It was the most guttural scream I have been able to muster in a good many years. I was ready for a fight, pugnacious, belligerent, and pissed-the-fuck-off. I had a bad case of the road rage. Right then and there, what I wanted to do was punch somebody square in the fuck’n face; but there was no face in the passenger seat next to me to punch. Fuck.

And so I screamed…

I’m sure someone heard my angry bellow at least five miles away. It was loud and with such force it made me cough as hard as taking my first gravity bong hit in my formative years.

“WHY IN-THE-FUCK AM I HITTING ALL OF THESE RED FUCKING LIGHTS?!?!?!?!”

I banged my fists upon the Acura’s steering wheel. I threw my entire body weight forward screaming my war cry. This was not fair. This was not fair I tell you. I gave the ‘what-the-fuck-hand’ at least ten times and cursed all those who had chosen not to go 20 miles an hour over the speed limit. I was ready to throw on the parking break, jump out of my ride and fuck up the soccer mom who was driving the Dodge mini-van behind me.

But I didn’t. I kept my composure. Well, sort of. Even though it took me 35 fucking minutes to travel seven, I repeat, seven fucking miles to my appointment.

Whatever.

Shit fucking happens.

Thanks for listening.