Randomness Not Even Remotely Organized

Image borrowed from this amazing photoblog: Always Curious

Why am I so bloody irritated? Irritable. Irritate-able. Rate-able. Ratty. Natty.

I'm not quite looking for a fight. Am I looking for a fight? I'm easily scratched, that's for sure. It's not taking much to set me off. I haven't really been biting peoples' heads off that much. Not entirely true. Just not as viciously when compared to the "good olde days".

Wow was I a bitch on wheels back then. Except...no wheels. Fat sausage legs more like.

Now? Am I tightly wound Vata? Is my fiery temper Pitta-packed? Do I just need to get laid?

Anger turned outward meant for inward. Reflections on the unknown what needs to be known inside. Maybe I'm afraid to be mushy. My armor is definitely strong, but its' rusty. Trite. Angsty like a teenager. That ain't even worth writing down kiddo.

Within ten minutes: 3 middle-aged ladies. One red, one pink, one blue. Go granny, go!

Spatial relationships seem beyond the grasp of some people. Two shopping carts cannot occupy the same physical space in the universe at the same time. Would that they could, I suppose. Guess that's not so much spatial relationships as basic physics. In which case...they're still morons. KMart is their breeding ground. I've seen the pods, people. They're pod people!

I must be sending out bitch waves. Or talk-to-me-not waves. Or hard-ass vibes. Or something. To men. Women strangers, however, appear perfectly comfortable stopping me for directions on the sidewalk. They stop me on the sidewalk; they don't want directions on how to use the sidewalk or anything. I respond with terse curt one-word replies. What a friendly little fucker I am these days.