Why I'm sometimes pissed.

Simple. Things anger me. Circumstances, people, news, events ...

For example, I become infuriated when my stinking fax machine makes copies instead of faxing my material. I want to choke some sprout-eating wiener hipster geek at Google when I constantly have to re-set my lousy password just to access my blog.

I get pissed when my truck tailgate drops down at 65 miles an hours and I lose a garbage can; when the dog pees in the entryway as I come home, when I can't unscrew a tube of paint, when I get rejection letters from agents and editors who don't want the story I labored to write. I'm angry about being spied on, listened to, and watched because I have the freedom to do what I want, and that fact pisses some power-hungry bureaucrat off.

Yes, I know. I let little things tick me off whenever I fail to keep sight of the big things. I know such is true in my head, but my emotions - well, there are times when I just need to vent, blow off stream, kick a can, curse, and go eat a Hershey bar (no, two Hershey bars!)

Then I'll go and hug that damn dog after I've let him back into the house, I fix the stupid truck tailgate, I'll keep querying agents, and then I'll take a hot bath. I still might throw that crappy fax machine out the second story window and delight as it splatters into the pavement. But that will give me an excuse to go out and buy a better one.