Dora on why flame-throwers are illegal

Day/Time:7:45am Saturday

Circumstances: Dora is sleep deprived, hung over and late for work. Oh and her car is still at the restaurant from last night.

Starbucks fucktard#1 : Can I help you?

me: yea, I'd like an oatmeal with nuts and berries, a tall dark roast and the globe and mail.

SF1: here's your nutbar.

me: no, try again.

SF1: excuse me?

me: i didn't order that. I'd like an oatmeal...don't forget the berries and nuts.

SF2: [shouts off into the distance] I need an Oatmeal with berries?

me: [getting ready to pull out my shiv] BERRIES AND NUTS!

SF#1: Just berries?

me: are you playing with me? Because this really isn't a great morning for games!

SF#1: oh. ok. That'll be $3.56.

me: for coffee, the paper and the oatmeal?

SF#1: oh you want coffee?

me: IS THIS NOT STARBUCKS?!

SF: $5.17

me: here.

SF: Here's your oatmeal. Anything else.

me: nope...JUST MY FUCKING COFFEE!!!!!

[and the desire to see your lifeless body dangling over the fiery pits of hell.]

My therapist says

I need to learn empathy for others.

I have empathy for people I like, my family, and old people who don't speak.

But who really gives a shit about strangers.

Apparently not me.

Old People get on my nerves

I know it's only a matter of time before we're all old and pissed about not being able to do the things we once could. But I really hope that when I'm old, I will not become a huge douchebag. I hope that if I feel like a raging homicidal lunatic because I broke my hip taking a deep breath, that I won't pick up the phone and yell at some unsuspecting stranger. I hope that instead I will say something like, "Sorry dear, I'll have to call you back when I'm not filled with pure bile and thorny hatred for all mankind."

That's what I hope.