From the old blog 2: The day I couldn't even throw a proper tantrum.

I'm a cusser. It's how I vent.

Not when it's wholly inappropriate, mind you. But I do use invectives to let off steam bit by bit, so that I can avoid a big blowup later.

During those rare blowups, it helps to break something. Nothing valuable...an old two by four, a brick, even something as simple as snapping a branch over my knee gets it out and then it's back to business.

You may or may not remember my War of the Rose Bushes from a few weeks ago. Today, I finally got around to hauling the roughly thirty billion cuttings so that I could give the lawn a full cut.

Let me tell you something about rose bushes (even dead ones)...

...they remember. And they can mobilize in a hurry.

It doesn't matter what you do or how carefully you do it. They. Will. Hurt. Your. Epidermis. 

When I was nearly done, one of them got me in the face. And by "got me in the face" I mean "ripped across my cheek from back to front." Hoping to keep the blowup at bay, I yelled out, "Goddammit motherfuck assbutt!!! Doggone it!" and tried to pull away.

My headphones had a different idea, wrapped around a branch and e-braked my head.

That didn't help my mood.

I had to stand there and seethe while I carefully untangled the headphones. When they were free, I stormed off, and another branch gashed me across the ankle.

I deliberately dropped my mp3 player and my sunglasses on the ground, grabbed a thick birch branch and prepared to smite it against a tree. I hauled back with everything I had, and...

...the branch broke off in my back swing and hit me in the kidney. Naturally.

I was so dumbfounded by this turn of events that I just stared at the now six-inch piece in my hand. For like a minute. And threw the stump at the tree. And missed.

At that point, I actually gave up on my tantrum, calmly geared up, and went back to work.

There really is a first time for everything.