You Can’t Say That, Pt. IX

The Complex Art of Kicking Your Ass

Spoiler alert: This random collection of words contains phrases and thoughts which might not be considered appropriate reading for children, and will likely offend those who are easily offended. I don’t deliberately set out to offend you, or your mom, or your mom’s mom, but if I do, let’s have coffee so you can correct my way of thinking. You’re buying.

This time I’ve really done it. I have resorted to physical violence. Okay, not literally, not yet…but I believe I would like to go ahead and take that path. (Ugh…I recoil from the word path, ever since I inspired an insipid humanoid with a poem I wrote and was subsequently and significantly underwhelmed by the results.)  Journey, maybe? No, one of the most wonderful bands in existence has utter control over the word journey. Trail? Nah…this is getting ridiculous now, because I have a word-association kind of brain and now I’m thinking trail mix which makes me want to eat something.

Well, just forget trying to find the correct word. The bottom line is that I get so angry with people that I want to punch and kick and slap and, well, basically revert back to preschool solutions. I’m not so interested in the biting or name-calling. It’d be far more interesting to kick someone in the knee, watch them drop, and then use your own knee to bludgeon their nose further into their face.

Violence is the answer. Right? Isn’t it?




Throughout the years, I have watched thousands of cop shows. I like a lot of them. Way back in November of 2007, the Writers Guild of America went on strike, and for the better part of a year, there was NO NEW STUFF on TV because guess what? You piss off the writers, no new shows get written, no new material for existing shows get written, and you’re stuck watching reruns.

Thankfully, for little ole me, I discovered Law & Order and its offshoot shows, and courtroom/cop television drama was good enough for me after a long day of bullshit at work. There were already stacks and stacks of episodes that were run and re-run, and I watched all of them.

Sometimes I watched this show called N.C.I.S. – have you heard of it? There’s a character on this show, former U.S. Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant and Sniper turned NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I adore him. For one, he’s handsome and tough. But one of his character moves is to get impatient with those who work for him, and he slaps them, open-handed, on the back of the head. It has become a Gibbs Trademark Move.

I want to do that. I want to feel the impatience rise from the depth of my belly and crawl up my throat, until it bursts somewhere in the middle of my brain and causes my hand to reach out, lightning fast, and slap the absolute fuck out of stupid people.

My good friend Rhonda lives in Alaska, and she has recently developed a little pill habit. She had this fucked up tooth that bothered her to no end, and that’s how it started. She initially used the pills to cope with the tooth pain.  Then she had the tooth removed, and the pills stayed for the ride. Now, the last time I spoke to her, she told me she doesn’t even like the pills but she needs them.

Well…no shit. You kinda went and got yourself addicted, didn’t ya, Rhonda? She’s so lucky I live so far away. A Gibbs slap to the back of the head is only the beginning.

Don’t get me wrong – I understand that addiction is a disease and there are tons of shit that people become addicted to and it can be a part of our personality and blah blah blah. Shut up. I don’t care.  Take care of it. Let it go. Go back to living your own life and not the life of the Almighty Pill. You need punched.

Get upset with me if you like. I abhor addiction, not addicts.

Enough of the addiction topic, though. I could talk on and on about it, because I worked with people for over a decade that, by the time I met them, they were a broken shell of what they used to be.  I worked with people who had no teeth left, thanks to the amazing power of meth. I saw women who would leave their babies with a sister or a cousin so they could go sell their ass for enough money to get diapers and formula in addition to the drugs. So your tooth pain – turned addiction – can go fuck itself.

I know a guy who has been in no less than 25 relationships…”serious” relationships. They go sour when the woman falls in love with him and tells him. He dumps them and then he’s sad and he can’t figure out why.  Well, for starters, you dumb ass, you’re most likely going about it the wrong way. If you don’t want love with another person, don’t put yourself in that position. Buy a fucking cat and live happily ever after. You need punched.




There’s this woman I used to be friends with. I stopped being friends with her because she’s a conniving bitch. That’s really all I need to say about the “why” of it.  Recently I actually walked past her while she was telling a story about how she obtained a scar on her arm.  She had made up some whole other version of how it had happened and all the bits and pieces of the story were completely different. How do I know this? Because I was there when her arm was injured and I know how it happened! Lying bitch – you need a throat punch and a Gibbs slap.

I will never brag that I am the best writer in the world, or anything remotely close to it – I know a girl who regularly sends me her writing and wants me to tell her how amazing it is. She doesn’t want to listen to any critique, she just wants me and everyone else to tell her how amazing this thing is and how amazing she is.

I stopped reading her work.  I stopped caring.

Bitch, you need a slap to the back of the head with a writing tablet loaded with instructions on how to use punctuation.

I’m sure I sound incredibly unreasonable. I have posted other installments of YCST where I have stated loudly how horrible it is that there are people all over the world who think people like me (and everyone I know) should die because we do not have the same religious beliefs.

The difference here is that I’m not talking about killing anyone. I’m not talking about religious beliefs or anything close to it. I’m talking about people who are actually very intelligent and still insist on doing stupid, stupid things. I don’t want to kill them. I don’t want anyone to die. I just want to smack the living shit out of them and say WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? in their face, and I want to say it in such a loud obnoxious way that spit flies out of my mouth and lands on their cheek and grosses them out. In some highly specialized cases, I would like to take it a step further and punch the offending person, or kick them in the knee…something slightly damaging but not lethal.

If you’ve followed along thus far, and haven’t said to yourself, “Hell no, I’m not reading this hateful shit anymore, this holier-than-thou bitch just wants to start shit,” well…congratulations on sticking it out. Really, I have no plans of actually committing violence. I don’t really want to hurt people. I do, however, have my limits and there’s only so many times I can roll my eyes without straining my  orbicularis oculi.




I am forever a student. I am always learning. Sometimes, the more I learn about people, the more dismayed I become. People are irrational and stupid. People are also brilliant, kind, and generous.  The learning part is where you figure out which ones are which…and where on that massive spectrum are you?

Now come over here and give me a hug…and let’s not talk about this violent shit anymore. Did you know the eye of an ostrich is bigger than its brain? I just found out today!






One thought on “You Can’t Say That, Pt. IX

  1. Annie, you’re crushing it at every turn as always. I hope that was therapeutic for you, like some mental yoga exercise, though I know the relief will last until the next pinhead comes along that needs a Gibbs’ slap.

    However, if you grew up in an Italian family from New Jersey like I did, the slap on the back of the head was a physical mantra!

    Liked by 1 person

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