Breakin stuff. Opening cans. What ev.

“But now I’m hot and baby you’re gonna get it.” Breakin Dishes by Rhianna

Too bad she didn’t open that can of whoop a$$ on B. Brown.

But that’s the thing about women, you just never know.  Why didn’t she open that can on him?

Move in close, boys, I’m going to tell you something you should never forget.

Never underestimate a woman.  

We are most likely not what you think.  

We are that and more.   

That’s the good news.

The bad news, is “never underestimate a woman”.  Especially one that is familiar with can openers.

Now, we should not be feared.  We are a loving race. We love kittens, babies, and fresh laundry.  We love men and women, sunsets, cosmos, coffee in bed.

But, we can be mean.  Very mean. To each other and to other men and innocent women.  (Never to kittens, babies or fresh laundry).  Always to vandals.

Sometimes we are mean during that one week a month, sometimes during the other three weeks.  

It is, apparently, our prerogative.

Take me for instance.  I have a mouth like a trucker.  Some might blush if they were ever privy to what was in my head.  For the most part, I keep it inside.  Most days.

Ladies: choose your weapons

Sometimes that is hard though.  I have a devil with a flamethrower on one shoulder and two angels with fire extinguishers that are always running low, on the other.  Sometimes, the angels can’t keep up and there is a fire.  Jussayin’

On the outside, I am usually quiet.  I was shy in middle school, and sometimes I am shy now. But, sometimes it will slip, the White Center will shine, and I unleash the Krakken.  I think it is shocking to some when it happens, but I was raised by a father who could put together a string of profanity only a sailor could be proud of.

This has only happened a handful of times and mostly when someone has crossed my family or me.  One time it was when our house was being repeatedly vandalized.  I stayed up one night and caught the little “buggers”. And I will tell you, they looked frightened when I flew out of the house in my bathrobe, hair all this way and that, slinging my badass string of profanity like a cowboy in a shootout at the OK corral.  The Good, the Bad, and, particularly, the Ugly.  They must have sensed it was that one week during the month, because they ran like hell.  I can only guess they have a mother at home because they were a bit frightened. 

So frightened, one little “bugger” (“bugger” is short for another name I like to call him) left his backpack on our lawn.  As they were running down the street, all elbows and bony knees every which way, I paused in my profanity spree and looked down to see the blessed backpack.  He used it to pack his vandal supplies in.  He yelled to his vandal friends, "Hey, did you get my backpack?"  I picked it up and shook it in the air shouting, "Yeah, I got your ____  ___  ____packback, you stupid ___ _______  _____ __ __".  It turns out that he also used it during the week to leave his homework in.  Stupid bugger.  And he WAS sort of stupid, bad grade on the paper but, lucky for me, he put his name at the top.

I plotted his demise for some time (funny, for just about a week. Huh…), but in the end, I gave up the fight.  After speaking to his mother and to him, I could only feel pity.  I had to deal with him for only one night, she has a lifetime.  So, everybody gets what they deserve, I guess.  She gets him, he gets a life of confusion and stupidity, and I got to open a can of whoop-a** on that one week of the month. 

You can't always get what you want, you get what you need. Yes, Mick, I did get what I needed.

But in doing so, I realized I couldn’t change the world, even as a profanity slinger. (cut to the lonely sound of my spurs ka-chiiinnging off into the dusty outback)

UH HUH, that's what I'm talkin about.

So see, I am that and so much more.  And I always always have my can opener on the ready.

I’m killin time, you know, bleachin your clothes – Rhianna

(Come on, we’ve all been there…)