Leave it to the assholes and the crazies to make me feel like a loser at life

This has been a very strange weekend. I am willing to chalk most of it up to the fact that I am seriously PMSing. Like big time. I guess I should have mentioned that this post is probably not boy-friendly :p 

I turn into a giant snarling monster when I PMS.

I become an irrational ball of emotion.

mmmmmmm, I want oranges

Even knowing that I am unable, in my current state of emotional upheaval, to react in a sane manner to even remotely upsetting things, I was still shocked at my almost physical reaction to the following two encounters....

1) Saturday morning I got up pretty early, made myself some breakfast (eggs and toast, mmmmmm) and headed off to the gym. It was a good start to the day, I was feeling great. I had some errands to run and stopped by the bank to get some cash. As I was about to cross the parking lot to my car, I noticed a van coming. So I stopped to wait, like nice people should do. I hate people who don't even look to see if cars are coming in a parking lot and just walk right out in front of you like they own the world. I am not one of those people, so I was going to wait for the van to pass. I wasn't in any big hurry anyway. Well the guy stops and waves me by. So I start to cross and politely smiled and waved, being appreciative and all, but I notice that they guy is kind of giving me a dirty look while waving me across, like he is seriously put out and irritated that he had to stop. I just kept walking, thinking to myself "What's your problem, buddy? I was gonna wait for you to go by, but whatevs...".  The guy parks his van and gets out just as I am about to get in my car. He looks over at me, grumbles something and then calls me a "Fucking Cunt", right to my face.

Now I have done some things in life where I probably deserved to be called a fucking cunt, and still was NOT called a fucking cunt. Ever. After the initial shock, I probably stood there with my mouth open for 3-5 seconds, I managed to sputter out "What did you just call me?!" He muttered something else that I couldn't make out, turned around and walked into the bank. 

I was struck by two conflicting impulses. The first being to cry. I was really offended. I smiled and waved at the douche bag!! And I think I am a pretty nice person, definitely not a fucking cunt. I think I might have even teared up a little bit. My second almost uncontrollable impulse was to follow that guy into the bank, cause a scene, and then stab him in the balls with the nearest sharp object (probably one of those pens attached to the counters with chains. I could have used my pissed off adrenaline hulk strength to liberate one of those pens from their chains).  What I did instead, was get into my car and call my daddy and tell him how upset I was. He did what all dads should do, offered to go kick that guys ass.  I love my dad :)

2)  Earlier this afternoon I decided to take a walk on the river trail. It was a weird day, kind of cloudy and muggy and not very warm. But I wanted to be outside and so I decided to head out.  I walked about 2 miles in and had just turned around to head back when this guy catches up to me. He was..... different. Instead of the normal polite smile or wave, the guy proceeds to pace himself with me and talk my ear off for the next two miles. He is a strange cookie. I know everything about this guy now. He is 42. His name is Tommy. He likes to bike 6 miles and then walk 4. He had a very traumatic experience as a teenager when a guy pulled a knife on him. He thinks that the sundial bridge is some sort of giant biblical reference. Blah blah blah. He kept saying "God, isn't it beautiful out here???" with the same level of fascination and awe that the guy in the double rainbow video had. I really didn't give a crap about any of it. Mostly I was being nice and saying "Oh yeah?" and "Wow, that's so interesting" because I was worried if I didn't he might throw me in the river or something. Here is a snippet of our conversation:

Tommy: "So does your husband usually walk with you?"

Me: "No, I'm not married"

Tommy: "You are awfully young looking, probably only 24, 25? No need to rush to get married anyway, haha"

Me: "Actually, I am 30"

Tommy: "Oh....... well..... lots of people find love later in life. I am sure it will happen for you".

Me: "..............................................................................................................................................................

.............................................................................................................................................................., yeah, thanks".

So basically, Tommy, the creeper on the river trail, just pointed out how behind I am in life. I am basically doomed to be a dried up old spinster.

About a quarter of a mile away from my car, it started to rain. Thankfully, Tommy was afraid he was going to melt and took off at a quicker pace to get back to his truck (which was very dirty and needed to be washed, luckily he had bought some really great car wash at the store earlier.... oh my god, this guy never stopped talking!).  I was left, thankfully, to finish my walk in the rain, in peace. All the while thinking to myself that that weirdo thinks I am a loser for not being married. Awesome. I was probably being way too sensitive about it, on account of my raging hormones, but he really bothered me. I felt like catching up with him and saying something stupid like, "Hey jerk, I was married!", but then realized that might make me seem MORE like a loser to him. Why I even cared is still a mystery to me. 

Generally speaking, the rest of the weekend was really good. I got to spend some time with my parents, had lunch with my sister, got to hang out with some friends while they were in town hunting for the perfect street bike, and managed to get seriously freaking high on glue fumes while observing the exciting process of carpeting a boat. I am ready to take a bath, put my jammies on and hopefully get some sleep before heading back to the grind in the morning.

The weekends are never long enough.