I have been aggravated. I’m not going to get into details, because it’s really not my story, but suffice it to say, this was not the correct time of month to piss me off.
Transcript of conversation at 9 AM:
URSULA: "So, I’ve gotten as far as ‘if you ever pull that shit again, I’m gonna rip your whiny little bitch head off and fistfuck the stump." Do you think he knows what ‘fistfuck’ means? I’d hate to have to get out the thesaurus."
KEVIN: (with remarkable calm) "Probably not. You might need to draw a diagram."
URSULA: "I’ll prepare some."
KEVIN: (wisely says nothing)
URSULA: "Maybe I’ll make slides. You could show them in church. It’d be an educational experience for everybody!"
KEVIN: (torn between mild horror and morbid curiosity) "…sort of a "this is what the Romans COULD have done to Jesus instead of crucifixion?"
URSULA: "Oooh! If I had Flash, I could animate it!"
KEVIN: (backs carefully toward the door)
I never could figure out why people got scared when I get mad–I mean, I NEVER get mad, and I’ve never done anything horrible to anyone, so you wonder why they’d bother. My desperate avoidance of drama is almost entirely so that I don’t HAVE to get mad. Getting mad is exhausting.
A buddy of mine says that I just give off some kind of vibe that says in essence "I’m a very nice, laid-back person, and if you push me too far I WILL DESTROY YOU." I can’t speak to the truth of that, but occasionally, at certain times of the month, I hope it’s true.
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