Some among you may have formed the impression that I am a decent guy who rides on a fairly even keel, and may even be considered patient or kind. If so, your mistake is due to two things:1. The magic of the internet where you can pretty much create anyone you want to be; and
2. My status as a professionally trained wordsmith who can weave a tapestry, yea an entire world of fictional believability using only the English language.
Those who think they have met me are deceived. I am not the short and wiry, middle-aged man with a receding hairline. That is merely an actor who I have hired to make the online persona believable. I am actually a stunningly attractic and tall blond woman in her early 30s, a hard-bitten New Yorker who writes a gossip column and commiserates with my friends about the abysmal state of New York men while drinking Grey Goose martinis, moving from conquest to conquest and casting about witty banter with devil-may-care sophistication.
OK, so that's not actually true. And I kind of stole that from a TV show, so it's not even really a display of any ability at fiction writing.
What you see is pretty much what you get, except that I am a lot less kind or patient than you might have been led to believe. Patience and mercy are not my best qualities. I am not longsuffering and slow to anger. In the words of Lyle Lovett, "that's the difference between God and me."
Certain things bring out the feelings that I am about to go Krakatoa. One of them is airport security lines, which I have survived four times this week without committing a homicide, although sometimes only narrowly. She probably does not know it, but she came within an eyelash of death-by-Krakatoa. You know her. The morbidly obese, mouth-breathing lady who stood in the security line for 15 minutes, heard the verbal instructions from the TSA representative, saw the instructional signs with pictures for the illiterate, and yet still waited until reaching the x-ray conveyor to clue to the fact that she needed to put a large assortment of hopelessly futile beauty supplies into plastic baggies while seasoned business travelers stacked up behind her.
I think the TSA almost "offed" her right there pursuant to some new power granted in an executive order. No one would have blinked.
Ditto for the blinged out refugee from a Hip-Hop video who tried to walk through the metal detector with a four inch wide studded belt and various and sundry chains.
Seriously, DID YOU NOT KNOW that this funny little door tries to find metal things? Do you THINK that the Mr. T rejects around your neck, and wrist and ankle and waist might not make the funny little door beep? You do KNOW that the beep does not mean you get a prize, right?
It's time like these that I start thinking evil thoughts about travelers in strollers and wheelchairs and trying to make predictions about which x-ray line will be the fastest.
COME ON GRANDMA! MOVE IT. YOU CAN TOTALLY GO FASTER THAN THAT. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR TITANIUM HIP REPLACEMENT. WAND HER, SKIPPY!
Then there is the training plan. I know that I have done enough workouts and can do enough on the weekend that I am going to continue to improve and not lose any fitness, but the integrity of the graphs and training log are now all screwed up and my head is going to explode. Plus all this life stuff, what with the parenting and the earning a living and the husbanding, is making me tired and interfering with the MY TRAINING!
CAN THE WORLD PLEASE GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE???!!! I've got a sub-15-hour Ironman, completely pathetic, non-podium, generic, back-of-the-pack finish to train for!!
Oh, did I mention that I have to suppress a really selfish streak from time to time. Shocking, yeah, I know. Who knew?
I'm getting on that plane over there in one hour and heading home from Orlando. I hope I find my daddy/husband self again before I pull my car in the garage.
**breathing deeply**
Oh gawd, that screaming toddler with the mouse is is probably on my flight.
Make.
It.
Stop.
I am a bad, bad man.
(Your own true confessions solicited for the comment section).
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20 comments:
Alright, Greyhound, here's my confession:
I sat scowling opposite a woman taking up priority seats on the bus last night *with her bags* so she could scribble in her notebook!
At least I did until I was almost overcome by the fumes of the perfume drenched self-styled fashionista whose entrance made everyone take notice (but I think not for the reasons she intended).
Safe travels!
I had Cap'n Crunch and beer for dinner...
Cheerleaders. Multiple packs of cheerleaders. Complete with full glitter eye makeup, hairbows and pajama bottoms with Uggs. At 5:45 AM. And none of them had their requisite sprays and gels and glosses in their little zippy bags. And of course they had to scream with glee when they found each other in the security line.
I'dve offed one of them, but I guess they would be able to tell the next time they tried to one of those pyramid things.
DOOOD!!! I TOTALLY FEEL YA ON THIS ONE!!!
i have absolutely no patience in airports. crying babies are the worst. infants, i can deal with, nobody's fault really. but 3 year olds whose parents cannot keep them from kicking the back of my seat?? OH.HELL.NO.
Confession: I was digging 30-something stunning blond Greyhoud-ess. With the big rack and fishnet stockings. Wait. I mean...
Confession - I think you're cute when you're angry.
Confession - I really don't like people. In general. Specific people I like. The hoi polloi not so much. They are just so oblivious and aggravating. And also? I totally judge people on their shoes/questionable fashion choices (the Paris and Posh wanna be-s especially) and the groceries in their cart.
Many of the things that I've said and that people laughed at... basically, I meant them.
BTW, if you aren't counting yourself as very patient and kind... you are failing to mark on the appropriate curve.
;-)
Nice try. We know you're patient and kind.
Besides, won't the teeth-gritting airport experience contrast nicely with your wonderful vacation? Just tell yourself that... and leave the offing of the airport security weak to me. I'm like a tiger with my glares and huffs of frustration. Or something.
Freakin' over the top hilarious.... My confession of the week: I voted for myself during the Evotri contest. Selfish? Hell yes!
My confession: I hate it when people talk on their cell phones on the plane. "YES WE ARE TAXI-ING TO THE GATE RIGHT NOW. HUH? NO, WHAT DID YOU SAY? OH YES THE FLIGHT WAS FINE. DID YOU EAT DINNER YET? OK I THINK THERE'S A ROAST IN THE FRIDGE. OK, MAYBE WE CAN GRILL THE CHICKEN INSTEAD. I HAD A SALAD FOR LUNCH SO I CAN HAVE CARBS TONIGHT. SURE, PUT HIM ON....WELL HELLO LITTLE SNOOKUMS I MISSED YOU TOO...YES I'LL BE SEEING YOU IN 2 MINUTES WHEN YOU PICK ME UP..." I swear...you can't wait until you are off the plane to sound the alert that you have arrived? And if the airlines ever allow cell phones during flight I will be a seriously unhappy camper.
Confession #2: I'm eating brownies in bed right now.
I think you need a backrub :-(
Holy cow, I am realizing I could make an entire post about 'confessions' alone.
Thanks for giving me my next blog entry :)
Thanks for cracking me up as well!!! I heart you!
okay, carrie... it MAY be time for a recovery week.
my confession? well, you already read about that on my blog.
i feel you on the travel though. my biggest peeve is in those lines where people aren't paying attention and MOVING FORWARD, thus creating a 20-foot gap between them and the person in front of them. here's the thing... the airport is not a place to space off. i don't care if you're going on vacation, have some respect for the rest of us miserable saps who are traveling to some godforsaken land that doesn't include a beach... and even if it did, we'd never see it as we'd be in meetings all. day. long. FOCUS, people! FOCUS and get outta my way!
I am too chicken to even put my confessions out here...but let's just say you are not alone. Why can't everyone just be like us? I mean, DUH...it's the only way to be!!!
Confession time--I have NO patience for people who have the bucks to buy a tricked out bike and wear all the cool kit but won't cough up $30 for a helmet. WTF is up with that!!! I yell at them,"Where's your HELMET!!??!!"
I'm not well liked on the Picnic Loop at the park cuz of my loud antics.
And yeah, I was wondering, after your Hulk-like transformation and then back to mild mannerd hound, are your clothes all torn to shreds???
Liz
PS-the security at LAX on Sunday was very lax and missed tons of stuff the was not in my quart sized zipper bag.
What? We are supposed to put that stuff in ziploc bags? I though we were supposed to wait til we were in the front of the line... isn't that where they give us the bags? So we don't have to fill them up at home?
There will always be people who can't see outside themselves. Ever. Just plug in your trusty iPod and wait. Or better yet, crack yourself up listening to Tac and Bigun.
I hate flying out of Orlando - its all families with strollers, diaper bags, etc. or old people who move too slowly. Very frustrating, esp. when you're in a hurry!!! And last time I flew out of there we had a toddler who screamed THE ENTIRE FLIGHT.
Have you seen this?: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7AWw7t5zj0
BTW - the screaming toddler wasn't mine! I would've given it Benadryl if it was!!!
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