hook

Every other day I feel like a saint. Okay, maybe not a saint, but I at least feel nice. Relatively nice to myself, not not nice to others -- an all-around okay human being. And then the days in between? Well, I become a bit of a beast. I see the world through the eyes of a curmudgeon and I feel like tripping everyone I walk past. No, not tripping them. That would lead to a confrontation. And even in my edgiest moments, I would much rather disappear than engage in a fistfight... Mostly due to the fact that I have noodle arms and probably the worst upper hook this side of the Mississippi. Where is Mississippi, by the way? Is it by one of the Carolinas? Up until right now I had forgotten that South Carolina existed. Oh! And West Virginia! There isn't a North Virginia, correct? Okay, just checking. Quick! Draw me a map on the back of a cocktail napkin while I drink the cocktail you ordered in order to chill the bleep bleep out.

Where was I? Oh right. Grumpy Pants Meg. Sour Puss Wiems. Totally Awful Attitude and Geographically Impaired Lady. JK, I ain't no lady, not even when I'm wearing a skirt. Or a dress. Or a neon sign around my neck that reads "LADY." Not even then. Anyway, I need to find ways to counteract my crappy mood on those days when I am not a pseudo-saint. Meditation? Okay, sure. Mantras? Why not. Muscle relaxers? If only.

But seriously, the world doesn't need anymore bad vibes. I don't want to be the non-lady, fake saint who contributes to the blahs that seems to be everywhere these days. Maybe I can begin by smiling more and scowling less -- unless it's at a strange man because those dudes get the wrong idea. I need my Bitch Face for them. But for everyone else, I promise to be more pleasant. I promise to be more compassionate. And I promise to never swing my arm at you unless it is to give you a high five and wish you all the peace and happiness in the world.