Which Is Nothing Like Your Father's Slim Electrolux

There a hundred things I could blame this on:

The other day, I had to go into work four hours early so that they could install a new heating system (aside: my boss told me I should bring a book with me while they work...Lord knows I wouldn't have been able to find one in the comic BOOK store), only to enter the alarm code for the wrong store. And since no one told me how to deactivate the alarm (including the rude bitch at the alarm company that I called), I couldn't turn it off for ten minutes. Oh, the alarm company made sure the police didn't come, and they didn't even call my boss, but it didn't matter, since I had to call my boss, since no one at the alarm company knew how to clear the alarm so I could enter the code.

It could be that my ability to trust a guy has been severely damaged by a couple of years' worth of people telling me they missed me, but then making up or finding excuses not to spend time with me, at the last minute.

It could be the amount of times I had to censor myself at work this weekend, like when my coworker said "Man, you can furnish your entire house with Hello Kitty, these days. There are Hello Kitty refrigerators, Hello Kitty beds, Hello Kitty televisions. I had to stop at The Hello Kitty backpack, otherwise my entire house would be this huge, pink space." And I was halfway through saying "Like your mom's gaping vagina." when I noticed there were three kids under ten in the store, so I ended up saying "Like your mom's gaping vacuum cleaner."

Or maybe it was that a four year old kid spent the entire time in the store screaming "I want this mommy, I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant it." while his seven year old brother quietly placed his new baseball cards in his new baseball card sleeves. The scene elevated until the mom decided to throw herself on the grenade, take the little one outside and reprimand him while the older child finished gingerly placing his cards in the sleeves. The woman was not even a foot away from the door, when the seven year old looked up. He looked at me, then at my coworker, then walked deliberately to the door, and opened it to say "Mom, you're such a fucken bitch, how could you leave me alone in there." I guess I would have been okay to use the word vagina.

Whatever the reason, I've been super irritable for the last three days. And some of it may be the latest guy I've broken up with.

When my roommate first heard I was dating again, he asked "Is this one old enough to drive a car."

To which I replied, "This one's old enough to drink. Shit, motherfucker just got out of rehab a month ago." Because I know how to pick 'em. Or, to be fair, I know how to be picked.

He didn't want to meet me at work Wednesday because I work in a bar. Fine. He blew me off Thursday because he was afraid my friends and roommates might be drinking, and he didn't want to be tempted. Completely understandable. Friday, he was on his way over, but traffic was bad, so he turned around and went home (he lives about a fifteen minute drive away). Saturday, he really wanted to come after work, but he was just so tired. And today, we talked on the phone for about an hour, and made plans to go out for a late dinner, and then fuck. He called from his supposedly car to let me know that he didn't know if coming over was a good idea, as he was having a spot of indigestion.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not indigestion." I said. "You're probably just queefing, you fucken pussy. Don't call me again." And I deleted his number from my phone.

I find myself saying and doing these things more often. And while I feel I save these remarks for when they're justified, I'm pretty sure they lose me World's Most Understanding Friend status. But that's fine. I've been slicing off unreliable friends for the last few months, and, apart from this weekend's snarkiness, feeling better for it. But is it fair?

I feel like the ridiculousness of the last couple of years has made me extremely impatient and intolerant of peoples' drama. I've moved from Little League Rules, where every player gets an at bat in every inning, to Family Feud tie-breaking round status: one strike and you're out.

I'd like to be as zen as I used to be. I want to relearn how to slowcook love, instead of jamming lust in a microwave. I want a cure for my sense of immediacy, and I want it now.