It was only a dream...

My chest hurts, I have a splitting headache, the really cool meeting I had today was canceled, and everyone in the whole world is stupid.

I am therefore feeling very mean at the moment.

In lieu of saying all of the snarky, horrible things to the people that pissed me off today, I'm writing them here. For the record, my mother never taught me any rules about what to do if I can't write anything nice...

So if you're reading this, I hate you. Don't take it personally - I hate everyone today. Just be glad you're not one of the people below.

To the idiot who took up three parking spaces in the garage this morning so nobody would ding his BMW -
I hope a piano falls out of an airplane and crashes through three layers of concrete before landing directly in your driver's seat. As a matter of fact, I hope it happens twice, just for good measure.

To the absolute moron who held up my orange juice purchase for ten minutes in the convenience store in Union Station because he had to return the $1.72 granola bar he just put on his credit card, as he needed that money in his account for something else-
You go to hell. You go to hell and you die.

To the woman who canceled my meeting with one of the premier arts organizations in Chicago this morning so she could attend an event where she may end up on tv (and then had the balls to send me the video that's going to appear on four different newscasts tonight)-
Fuck off and die in a fire. I mean that in the nicest possible way. Which still isn't very nice.

To the 20-something blonde, skinny bimbo wearing 4-inch spike heels in the office today...who couldn't figure out how to take a proper step in them without tripping or shuffling her feet like a drunk-
You are a miserable tramp. If you can't walk in them, don't frickin wear them. You are officially no longer pretty, and are also too dumb to live.

To the three men over 6' tall I went to lunch with who insisted on walking as fast as possible for five blocks because they didn't wear coats and were cold-
I can walk in heels. I am, however, 5'2", and making me run in them to keep up with you is not very gentlemanly. Choosing not to wear a coat when it's 30 degrees outside isn't macho - it's infantile. Grow up, or I'm going to make you wear mittens.

To the dickhead I was stuck behind on the Kennedy this afternoon who insisted on driving 52 mph in the express lanes-
I hope that piano ricochets off the BMW and crashes through your windshield. While I'm watching. So I can point and laugh. And take video that will show up on four tv stations tonight.

To the 'friend' who calls me every Friday afternoon to tell me that our kids are talking about a sleepover again, and ask if I can take her son for the night-
My kid doesn't like your kid THAT much. And I'm starting to not like you at all. Do you really think I can't tell when you make shit up? If start yelling, "BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!" like a bad lie detector every time you open your mouth, will you be offended? Good.

To you, reading this-
Bite me. Seriously.

p.s. - See? Next time you wonder why I'm quiet and look grouchy, you won't ask. Especially if I have a piano handy.

p.p.s. - Sleepover-monger-mom-friend just called again. I didn't answer. I am going to make her sweat for an hour or so while I go pull legs off of kittens or something.

p.p.p.s. - Shut up. I know you love me anyway.

p.p.p.p.s. - You do too, you liar.