rage & pus

Normally, I have a pretty even-keeled personality. I get mad like a triangle, spiking up fast and hard, then deflating swiftly down the other side of reason until I don’t even remember why I was mad. I got very mad yesterday and I realize as I type this that there are no words to describe this situation in a way where anybody else is going to feel the same rage that I did, but I still feel this experience needs to be shared because I did not commit murder yesterday and I want some goddamn kudos for that.

Our building doesn’t have visitor parking and the streets around us are 99% permit only parking. So when friends with cars come to visit, or sleep in the guest bedroom that is our living room, it is painful. Yesterday, in anticipation of Chessa’s arrival, we watched somebody leave a 2 hour spot in front of the building, so I booked it downstairs so I could move my car there and hold the spot. I peel out of the garage, round the corner and see the empty spot has a woman standing in it. I slow down and pull closer to her and she shakes her head and yells at me, “I’m parking here.” With….your ugly head? With your face that I want to drag behind the car over shards of glass? So I start to ask where the vehicle is and she just keeps repeating herself, not moving.

This is where my DNA changed from Brooke to something dark and scary as having no choice, I had to just keep driving and go back into my parking garage. I left deep imprints from my footprints through the garage into the elevator and into our apartment–“stomping” wouldn’t even come close to describing how I was dragging my temper around and upstairs. Getting back into the apartment and glaring down at her stupid face from the deck revealed she was actually standing in two spots, something I didn’t realize while I was down there casting gypsy curses. I then should have laid down in the dark until I stopped seeing stabbing in front of my eyes, but I just kept watching.

Of course the person she was holding the spot for never came, and some big stupid truck came and took the spot and maybe I let it ruin my evening, but sometimes I am entitled to being a huge cranky pants spazz.


For some amazing unknown reason I get acne in places it was never intended to be. I understand the body has millions of pores to get blocked and clogged, but pimples should be restricted to the face, unless you’re the parking shedevil described above, then they should blanket the entire vagina and asshole like a rolling plague.

In high school my face was adorable but my ears consistently had some dark secrets that only my Mom noticed and it made her nuts. She could not handle A) Us leaving the house in unironed clothing or B) my hair in a ponytail revealing tiny black dots deep in my ear canal. So, somehow I would agree, time after time, to let her push me against the bathroom wall so she could lean in and pry the offending owies out of my ear, using a safety pin or paperclip and prodding delicate ear skin until she was a soft breath away from puncturing my ear drum.

Just in case you were wondering, this was FUCKING HORRIBLE. I wasn’t allowed to bolt away or wriggle around, so I did what I could and that was moan and scream while she called me a nicer mom version of a "giant pussy". Or maybe she did use that exact term. I can’t remember over the dark memory of my ears bleeding.

So, that’s way TMI and wasn’t fun but I got through it all, and I think the last time I got her to freeze my ears first so she could go buckwild in there while I laid there, calmly unaware of the massacre happening.

Let’s fast forward to about a year ago. I was putting on eye shadow and saw a few teeny tiny white bumps on each eyelid. Fuck me. Tiny whiteheads on MY EYELIDS? I’m pretty sure since I don’t kick cats or accelerate over women illegally holding parking spots that I do not deserve this kind of fate.

So, they didn’t go away by themselves–shocking. They just sat there giving me the middle finger for months, so I became my mother's daughter two nights ago and got out a safety pin. Got as close to the bathroom mirror as possible and jabbed that pin through them all and got rid of them and yes, it hurt like something was dying in my eyes, but guess what? They’re gone, and I WIN. I took back my face, and I didn’t shred my tear ducts, and that is what I call a great job.