Ever gone through a few days when you inexplicably felt rage about anything and nothing? And we’re not talking about that piddly irritation men like to accuse women of being, otherwise known as “pissy”. We’re talking about violent, dagger-stabbing, get-away-from-me-before-I-rip-your-face-off-you-smug-bastard, fury. Women can feel it too; men don’t corner the market on incomprehensible apoplexy.
It happened to me recently. Why? I don’t know. As you well know, it just comes up on you every once in a while, there doesn’t have to be a trigger. We all experience it. In fact, this last time, it came upon me while I was lying in bed in the dark trying to go to sleep. Nothing bad had happened, I was just there, in black repose, and all of the sudden I just HATED EVERYTHING.
However, as I was sitting there miserably seething over nothing in particular, I did have some brilliant visions of how to release it without harming anything or anyone in my near vicinity. So I decided to share for the benefit of your relief. Make sure no one is at home first, before engaging in any of these very pleasurable activities.
- Yell at everything inanimate in your house. Fuck you couch! I’m sick of you just sitting there, doing nothing! You should be more active! You should make something of your life! You’re so lazy, you beige leather elephant. What’s the matter with you?!? And what about YOU, you miserable dining table! Don’t you sit there smirking. How DARE you have all that mess on you? Don’t you ever clean up after yourself?! What a bunch of losers.
- Turn on the Hallelujah chorus megalomaniacally loud. If you watched my video from the last post, you will have experienced recently just how powerful this music is. Man, it can get anyone out of the most vicious rage. Especially when it’s booming around the entire house, shaking all the windows and rattling the doors. HAAAA-LLE-LUJAH! HAAAA-LLE-LUJAH! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Ha LLEHHH HEH LUUUUU JAH! It’s the best. And no one will hear your tone deaf accompaniment over the bellowing chorus and soaring orchestra.
- Shake your fists at all your furniture and punch all the cushions. There is nothing more satisfying that beating the snot out of something when you’re really angry. All men will agree – and most women, although they’re less likely to admit it publicly. Men fight, women do aerobics, right? Not anymore! If you’re blessed with a punching bag in your basement, go for it. But for the rest of us, a good brandishing of the mitts at the lamps, some screaming and a few swings at the Pier One bumpers will do just as good of a job. Ripping out the foam interior adds to the pleasure, but only if you hate that flowered print enough already and won’t regret it later.
- Tell your refrigerator how ugly and fat it is. That big fat bastard deserves to be shot! He takes all my esculent pleasures, withholds it from me behind its giant doors, and makes me feel guilty each time I sneak in there by shining its floodlight all over me, catching me out, illuminating my every gluttonous sin. Well I hate you too, you massive rectangle bouncer jackass! You ruin my life! You’re fatter than I am, so screw you!
- Stomp up and down the stairs until you trip and fall. STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP thewholeworldsucksandIhateeverythinginitSTOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP! Turn around. STOMP STOMP STOMPnothingeverseemstogomywayandIjustwishIwoulddiealreadySTOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP. Back up again. STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP@*$#&*#%&@$@*$#&*#%&@$@*$#&*#%&@$!!STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP! Turn around. STOMP STOMP STOMPwhateverIdon’tcareifanyonethinksthisisjuvenileitsurefeelsawesomeSTOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP. Back up again. STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP FFWICK! aaaauuuggghh – PHLUUMP! I think I’m done.
- Get in the shower and plan everyone’s murder. So let’s see… I just read Gone Girl, so I have a good place to start… create an alibi… I was… at Zumba, yeah… get a hold of a lead pipe… man that turd won’t know what hit ’em… establish his/her daily pattern… yeah, I’ve seen you go into that “medicine shop” when you thought no one was looking… find a way to lure him/her into the conservatory… the promise of a good bonk should do it… anticipate his/her every move… set up Colonel Mustard as the patsy… organize my escape route… damn those orange barrels… construct a new identity… I’ve always liked the name “Alex”… devise a way to dispose of the body… maybe down the sewer? Best place for a sh–… watch a few episodes of CSI to learn how to eliminate any evidence… I have such a crush on Nick… and then all that savagery WASHES DOWN THE DRAIN. Showers are so cathartic.
- Go out into the yard with a pickaxe and start laying waste. YAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!! TAKE THAT, YOU INSIDIOUS PROLIFERATING WHISKERY BEAST! Just try to survive my axe! I’ll CUT…. whack! YOU… whack! OFF… whack! AT…. whack! THE… whack! KNEES!! Seriously? How can your roots still be connected?! Is this thing sharp enough? OW!
- Tear up some old clothes that you’re never going to wear again. Forget Goodwill or the Salvation Army, yank out all the garb you know you won’t ever wear, you know you’ll never fit into again in this lifetime, all the crap you’ve been hanging on to simply to justify having ever bought it in the first place, take a kitchen knife or pair of scissors and get to lacerating. RRRRIIIIIIIPPPPP! SLASH! GASH! Pretend that jacket with the 80s shoulder pads is your lascivious boss, Ken! STAB! You won’t be leering at me over the cubicle wall anymore! What about those parachute pants? TEAR! That’s for you Barbie for being such a stuck up slag! BWAHAHAHAHAAAAA. Hey, I’ve got some new rags I can clean the truck with!
- Get out some paper and a pencil and scribble so hard it rips. This one can be really fun. Make sure you use pencils, and not pens, because when you’re that mad you actually enjoy the force it takes not only to destroy the paper, but break the pencil lead. And maybe the pencil. SNAP! RIP! SCRIBBBBBBLE! It’s very satisfying. You might even make some grooves in the table underneath. Yeah!
- Write a blog post about your demoniac loathing. I think this one speaks for itself.
Ahhhhh…. that feels better. Now I can look around my enchanting little house and garden, and I am suddenly grateful for its patience, kindness and beauty. What pretty furniture I have! What lovely books! Serene appreciation swiftly abounds:
Thank you air conditioning, for keeping me blissfully cool in the summer.
Thank you scary furnace, for keeping me warm and cozy in the winter.
Thank you clean water, that comes magically out of the taps.
Thank you refrigerator, for being a source of great pleasure (sorry about all that earlier).
Thank you roof, for keeping the rain out.
Thank you carpet, for providing a soft spot to land.
Thank you bed, for being the best thing invented in the history of the Universe.
Thank you TV, for all the Netflix and Hulu and ensuing Rockford Files and Hawaii 5-O (the original, please) I can stand.
Thank you computer, for all the joy and challenge you bring.
Thank you toilet, for all the very hard work that you do.
Thank you weeds, for letting me murder you!
Thank you beautiful boyfriend, for not thinking I’m crazy, and loving me anyway.
Thank you friends, for reading my stories. 😉
Seriously, you’ve got to get that aggressive energy out somehow, without violently assaulting other living things. I mean, who needs the police record?
Because counting to ten sometimes just doesn’t cut it.