Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Who Bugs Ya, Baby

Recently a friend (DONNA) made me laugh by telling me that she was absolutely irritated by everyone, and she meant everyone. "Do you know what I mean?" she asked. And then, hastily adding the lie, "Well, not you." Hey, I may have an ego, but I am smart enough to know that when you feel that everyone is irritating, even my beguiling ways may bring some eye rolling.

I wish that I had no idea what she means, but I can exactly relate. The other day the bank teller annoyed me. I pulled out one hundred dollars, and instead of frolicking in that free wheeling ten-minute high you get from five clean twenties, I was fuming that the teller took it upon himself to make me "special change". A fifty, a twenty, two tens, and a five and five ones (ones, for pete's sake?) later and I didn't even feel like I had a hundred on me. And as I drove off (irritated, Donna, you know?) I realized that I am developing an attitude problem.

Where is happy go lucky anyone anymore? I'll tell you where. They're watching the news, which always discusses war, and which tonight, for kicks, threw in a busted pipeline and an increase in gas prices starting, say, tomorrow morning. They're flipping the radio station and hearing Fifty Cent (Fitty Cent?) sing about some ho's big ass riding around in his Escalade. And they're trying to raise their kids in a godforsaken time when no one even pretends that some houses live like Father Knows Best.

Apparently everyone is irritating everyone. Your kids, well my kid, watch 7th Heaven with you, roll their eyes, and say "Mom, no one talks that way to their parents" after the cherubic children had just performed some extreme oral embarassment like saying thank you to the parents. But lest this post sound like I am yet again harping on Jake's imperfect behavior, it isn't. I am just annoyed. I have an impending sense of futility, a horrible feeling that some strange, lean, and frightening times are ahead of us. Iran is pumping around 40 million dollars an hour into Hazbollah, my house's worth dropped about a hundred thousand of "theory money" in six months, and by God tell me I haven't finally been heaven-sent my precious little daughter only to have WWIII break out, gas become $22.13 a gallon and completely blow my being able to get me her those ballet and English Riding lessons.

Yes, Donna. I know just what you mean.


Walter said...

And to think all of your angst could have been relieved with five twenties!

Walter said...

Times aren't what they used to be, and they never were.