I'm Rudolph Valentino pull up in my limosino.

Couldn't help it. It's on the radio right now. And how I LOVE that song.

You know some days when you just want to punch someone in the face?

This is one of those days.

But I throw things not punches.

And only when I'm super mad. And not at people, just in their general direction. And I don't want to actually hit them, just get my message across. What message my cheque book carries, or my keys, or a piece of lint, I don't know.

Can you imagine though? Just walking up to someone who is pissing you off, and just hauling back and punching them in the face? Not slapping, no no, too soap-opera-ish, but a real punch. Just standing right there in front of them, pulling your fist back, and sending it toward their face with the intent to actually hit them. Not necessarily do harm. Just punch them.

I'm just not that kind of person. I do damage to myself instead. I beat myself up instead. Mentally. Emotionally. Those nasty thoughts come into my head, "Urs, you are a bitch." "Urs, this is YOUR fault." "Urs, they wouldn't be pissing you off if only you were a better person, employee, listener, wife..." The list goes on.

So instead of throwing a punch, I casually walk away, back to my task at hand, job, room, car (the list goes on), and beat myself up and think I'm an idiot, dumb, sucker...

The list goes on.

Urs.