Last night was tough. Not just because Wentworth Miller didn't remove his shirt during the season premier of Prison Break [sigh] but my softball team, the Shortstops...lost.our.game. Actually "lost" is a kinder, gentler word than some that come to mind [demolished with a capital "D", a**whopped, b***s ripped off and slow pitched to us, ahem...etc].
My sometimes-under-the-radar competitive nature became quite apparent as the game progressed. At first, I tried to keep the four/five/six letter expletives under my breath. In the end, I was like a seasoned navy sailor unleshed during happy hour in Mexico [a trait passed on to me by my paternal grandmother]. The more I tried to concentrate, the more mistakes I made. And it's never a good sign when I begin to roll up the sleeves of my t-shirt (as if freeing my shoulders and/or arm pits will impact my ability to not f*** up). Yes, say hello to the other side of Erika. And it ain't pretty.
Rowdy cheering from our fans, including Undercover Mother, wasn't enough to change the end result. But gee whiz, we're ordering some snazzy team shirts!
I did an hour of Taebo when I got home, to work off the pent up agression (and punish myself for the bad plays I made). Besides, Billy Blanks doesn't care if I swear. Personally, I think he kind of likes it.
Today at work Undercover Mother outed the competitive side of my personality. Hard to believe such a sweet little thing like me could be so expressive (uh huh). Did I mention my nickname at work is Firecracker? Really, they should have seen that one coming. And hello! The redhead/bad temper thing that we redheads try to pretend is just a myth without a shred of substance...so TRUE.
Our veteran coworker Margaret, who we affectionally call Aunt Margie, ducked into my cubicle for "storytime with Aunt Margie". To summerize (you'll thank me) when you feel like you're getting down, remember the sage words of Pollyanna and "always find something to be glad about". I've been advised this can be applied to many areas of one's life (including home renovations and dating to name a few). But especially, to avoid swearing at a shitter-of-a-softball-game.
I'm a real heat-of-the-moment kind of girl, so to ensure cooler heads prevail and all that b***s*** I've decided to make a list [naturally] which I will write down and carry with me at all times. A list I like to call:
Things To Be Glad About When You Really Feel Like Saying F***:
- Ability to stop traffic with leg baring mini-skirt
- Wentworth Miller with/without shirt
Does one really need more of a list than that? H*** no. Er, I mean ofcourse not silly.
Ironically, I have been approached by someone interested in collaborating on a children's book/series. I can't even imagine right now what that would look like.