From the old blog 2: The day I couldn't even throw a proper tantrum.

I'm a cusser. It's how I vent.

Not when it's wholly inappropriate, mind you. But I do use invectives to let off steam bit by bit, so that I can avoid a big blowup later.

During those rare blowups, it helps to break something. Nothing valuable...an old two by four, a brick, even something as simple as snapping a branch over my knee gets it out and then it's back to business.


Let me tell you something about rose bushes (even dead ones)...

...they remember. And they can mobilize in a hurry.

It doesn't matter what you do or how carefully you do it. They. Will. Hurt. Your. Epidermis. 

When I was nearly done, one of them got me in the face. And by "got me in the face" I mean "ripped across my cheek from back to front." Hoping to keep the blowup at bay, I yelled out, "Goddammit motherfuck assbutt!!! Doggone it!" and tried to pull away.

My headphones had a different idea, wrapped around a branch and e-braked my head.

That didn't help my mood.

I had to stand there and seethe while I carefully untangled the headphones. When they were free, I stormed off, and another branch gashed me across the ankle.

I deliberately dropped my mp3 player and my sunglasses on the ground, grabbed a thick birch branch and prepared to smite it against a tree. I hauled back with everything I had, and...

...the branch broke off in my back swing and hit me in the kidney. Naturally.

I was so dumbfounded by this turn of events that I just stared at the now six-inch piece in my hand. For like a minute. And threw the stump at the tree. And missed.

At that point, I actually gave up on my tantrum, calmly geared up, and went back to work.

There really is a first time for everything.