I REALLY hate people who say, "hot enough for ya?"
To which, I wish I could sprout horns from my head, poke them with barbecue tongs and reply, in a demonic voice, "Actually, no. I'm just here on a brief vacation. I prefer it a little toastier, thanks, like home. I like it best when all I need to is hang a raw steak out my window to make dinner. I like it best when spit evaporates before it hits the ground. Maybe have a few little piles of burning brimstone scattered about for ambiance. All it does is make me miss my blessed underworld. Wanna come back with me?
Yeah. That ought to shut 'em up.
Or make them run.
Or make them call the cops, but then I can claim that I'm off my meds.
I hear that's the latest defense against bad behavior.
Bet Patrick Kennedy and Mel Gibson wished they'd thought of it.
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2 comments:
Ugh. I hate those people too. And sadly, when I accidentally made eye contact with some guy coming into my pshrink's office as I was going out, on a monumentally hot day (the annual corporate challenge 3.5-mile run was cancelled), I was that guy. I just blurted it out.
And then I apologized profusely, and we both had a laugh, and he put the gun away.
If only Israel and Hezbolla could do the same!
The only thing I miss about no longer working for a company that competes in the corporate challenge is designing the team T-shirt. "Light on our feet," "Charge of the Light Brigade," all those little running lightbulbs. So many metaphors, so little time... One of them won an award. But all I got was the lousy t-shirt...
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