Tuesdays are okay in my book.

Usually the day after I write an angry blog, I feel bad about it. I'm like, "Shit son, I need to get my temper under control otherwise people are gonna start calling me Ike."


You gonna get it.

I don't feel bad about what I wrote yesterday though. It still rings true today. But, I do regret letting one situation affect my entire day. I was upset throughout the day, but my friends and family came through and punched my bad day in the face. Punched it in the face with RAINBOWS AND AWESOME.

First, good ol' Thurber drew me a cake with llamas and penguins around it. Then, NE wrote a super sweet blog post that made me blush and smile wider and weirder than The Joker on crack. Some friends of mine showed me some b-day love on the Facebook, MySpace and Twitter. Mama D and Poppa D took me for the largest strawberry daiquiri I've ever had the pleasure of putting down the hatch. The Boy gave me a lot of laughs and blew my mind by ordering a little something called a pie shake. Oh, that's right, a pie INSIDE a milkshake. Someone needs to call Criss Angel because my mind has been freaked.


On second thought, don't. Nobody wants this.

I usually tend to focus on the negative instead of the positive. Like I said before, the bad things leave a bigger mark than the good. The thing is, my life is going well. Good and exciting things are happening. I've gotten used to always having something wrong, something to fix, that I don't really know how to react when there is nothing that needs fixing. I seek out problems instead of just enjoying all the good fortune that has come my way. Days like yesterday have shown me that it's alright to feel good about something. I'm not going to apologize for all the good things that have been happening to me lately and I'm sure as hell not going to seek out misery.

I'm starting a change today. I am purging myself of all the dead weight in my life. I'm taking a break from being meek and not defending myself. I am going to take concrete steps towards being a good friend. I am going to be more assertive and not feel bad about getting things that I want. I'm going to be a little bit more of a bitch, in a good way, of course. Why? Because it's about goddamn time, is why.

So, yeah. Suck it, Monday. There's a new day of the week in town.

Please don't be so passive, be aggressive.

I have no clever way to start this because, well, I don't particularly care for being clever at the moment. Why's that? Because my brain is so full of rage that I can barely see straight.

Without naming names or specific incidents, I'd like to formally call bullshit. I'm calling bullshit on toxic and lame people. I'm calling bullshit on situations that I can change, but for whatever reason choose not to. I'm calling bullshit on all the things that make me want to surrender and go home.

"You never stick up for yourself," is what I heard on the other end of the phone. At the time, I was prepared to call bullshit on that too. But, as it turns out, it's true, and that makes me angrier than I could ever express. I don't stand up for myself because I'm so terrified of rocking the boat that it just doesn't seem worth it. I can stand up for my friends and family, but I can't do that for myself. I hate that. I'll let myself get beat up by friends, family and co-workers because, hey, they need to vent and the world could always use another martyr and I can handle it. That's what I tell myself; they get to be assholes because they need to let it out and I'm strong enough to handle it without taking it personally.

Well, I'm not going to stop doing that. I love my friends and family enough that I understand that sometimes, you just gotta let your inner dickhead have a go at the world and that occasionally that takes place all over your friends and family. But what I will stop doing is wearing myself out over friends and family who just don't deserve it. That might sound like an asshole thing to say, but I really don't give a shit. Maybe I am an asshole after all. An asshole with a broken heart who is tired of repairing the same wounds over and over again.

When asked what I wanted to do today, my answer was nothing. I don't want to do anything today because I'm too worn out. It bothers me that some very recent bullshit completely overshadowed some pretty fantastic events. What can I say? Hurt lasts longer than love and, baby, I got a lot of hurt today.

Ouch.

Yesterday was so laughably terrible that I had no other choice than to, well, laugh at it all. I spent the first part of my day drenched in the stench of mediocrity and dirty feet at the DMV, followed by numerous phone calls to unexpectedly helpful banks. Thanks for not screwing me on this one, Wells Fargo.

After spending the day running errands, I made some soup and called it a day. Poppa J came over and we rented some movies. I was enjoying just hanging out with Poppa J and Red, but I couldn't shake the headache I had. I started rubbing my temples, but that just made it hurt even more.

Oh well, I thought. It's probably because I'm wearing a hat and I've had a stressful day. I'll just sleep it off.

This morning I woke up like most other mornings: groggy and craving a muffin. I got into the shower and praised Jesus for warm water. After steaming up the bathroom, I wiped the mirror clean and saw this:


Not pictured: Ike Turner.

What the holy hell?! Where did that come from? I searched my noggin and suddenly remembered what happened. There is a shelf above my bed where sometimes things are put. Heavy things. And sometimes said things fall DIRECTLY ONTO MY HEAD.

Hello, Klutziness? It's your old friend, KV. Glad you could drop by.

I tried to cover it up lest my co-workers think I'm cooler than I am by sporting a black eye on a Wednesday.


Also not pictured: emo tears.

Sorry guys, no bar fights over here to speak of. Just a laughably terrible Tuesday.