Save the drama for...me

Remember that creepy sister in Muriel's Wedding that would get a lecherous look in her eye, drop her head, screw up her mouth then slur, "You're terrible, Muriel" every time Muriel would get a case of verbal diarrhea and say something awesomely horrible?

This is what echoes through my mind when I'm being naughty. More often when I'm having naughty thoughts and then it echoes loudly in my head when I'm putting some of those naughty thoughts into action. I grow little horns and I get a flamey glint in my eyes and I'm sort of sure that a pointy tail pops up in my pants.

I don't just have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I have a gremlin on the back of my neck and a fairy hiding between my toes and a big ol' bug up my butt. And that bug is a cheeky little scamp who can smell a Greek tragedy from a mile away and clamors for a front row seat.

In general I don't like big messy freak-outs and of course it sucks when I'm on the receiving end of a dickish dog-pile, but I have to admit that there have been times that I deserved a swift kick in the booty. And I'll freely confess that when someone else has more than earned a massive bitch slapping that I'll stand on the sidelines waving my flaming pom-poms happily jumping into the fray if I think it's my place to do so. Sometimes a person needs their ass kicked and I have several pairs of steel-toed boots just ready for a well-placed punt.

Most of us who weren't raised in an ultimate fighting cage were told to ignore the jerks. And in most instances this is good advice. When I get particularly spun-up about some fucker giving me shit or farting in the atmosphere for all to enjoy, I'm inevitably told to just forget about it, don't let 'em get to you, never let them see you sweat. But there are times when that dickhead has Crossed. The. Line. And then it's time for some whoop ass.

I explain it like this; if you and your posse had a standing get-together every weekend and one night a friend of a friend showed up, ran around like a maniac, insulted your dog and slapped your face, broke your favorite party platter then promptly took a shit in the punchbowl what would you do? Just smile and say, oh, nevermind, just push the turd to the side with the ladle, pretend it's not there. No, I don't think you would. And when that rude visitor makes their way into your shared space and does the same thing every time that crap gets beyond old and they deserve that befouled bowl poured over their head.

There are people who say manipulative shit that is polished to such a shiny luster most people who don't posses a keen sense of observation or who want to be snowed eat it up like candy. See: politicians. You know there's always that passive-aggressive goon in your office who just gets away with murder. And I'm starting to think the attention-whoring trolls on the internet outnumber the sane people 3 to 1. So it's a good day in my book when someone who gets away with bullshit on a continual basis has that big ball of crap shoved right back in their cake hole.

I think we've all encountered people like this, at least I know I do on a god damn daily basis, be it on the net or in real life. So isn't it great when a jerk or hypocrite gets a heaping helping of some rough justice. A good strong case of their own rancid medicine. A glorious smackdown that was a long-time coming. I certainly think so.

Although I'm not completely heartless, I do have mixed feelings about it and will always try to give any person an ounce of thought and understanding (unless you're a complete waste of space), but when bridges are burned and double-crossers leap over lines, that bug in my ass has a good time watching them get their comeuppance. And really, anything living up my butt should get a laugh once-in-awhile.

Sometimes I'm terrible, Muriel.