I am by no means a violent person, nor do I posses exceptional upper arm strength. But for whatever reason, lately I've taken to visualizing something rather disturbing: taking offensive people, lifting them up over my head, spinning them around in the air, and flinging them.
Flinging on the subway! Flinging at the Supermarket! Flinging as an Olympic sport!
I know what you're thinking, and part of me agrees: Oh Dear.
It all began one evening when Hubby and I were in a taxi, returning home from a show he'd played. The object of my ire was an ego-maniacal, misogynistic, platform-shoe-wearing little man whom Hubby thankfully no longer associates with. This dingleberry had particularly incited my wrath that night, but for Hubby's sake I'd managed to behave very politely. Now, however, we were alone...
Cackling like a madwoman, my voice an unnaturally high pitch from all the cheap pinot grigio I'd imbibed, I described in ugly detail exactly what I'd like to do to the offender in question: I would take him, lift him over my head, spin him in the air and fling him!! Spin him and fling him as far as I possibly could!
It was at this point that I noticed the cab driver began peering ever so gingerly into his rearview mirror.
Over and over I said it, laughing wildly. Hubby found me amusing, but not nearly as amusing as I was finding myself. (Don't worry, we gave the driver a good tip.)
I've now incorporated the phrase into my every-day vocabulary: I will fling them! They will be flung! Well, everybody's got to get their laughs somewhere, even if these laughs come from verbally simulating acts of violence.
It's not that I don't like people. On the contrary, for the most part I try to recognize the redeeming qualities in most everyone I meet, regardless of how annoying or unlikeable they may seem.
Having said this, it's not difficult for me to come up with a plethora of reasons to want to fling people. Just this past Tuesday, for example, there was a large woman dressed in purple scrubs who grabbed my arm on the 6 train, causing me to think she must be someone I knew. (Why else would someone place their fingers around my upper arm?) I turned and looked, only to realize she simply wanted to move me out of her way to get off of the subway before me. Did I mention that I, too, was also planning on exiting the train in a speedy manner?
Flung!
Then there was the lady who yelled at me on Wednesday, apparently for not allowing her to cut in front of me while getting onto the escalator at 59th Street. (I'd already let like six people push in front of me, it was my turn, something had to give.) Into her angry face I cheerfully smiled, "You have a nice day, now! Bye!" But we all know what I really wanted to do with her.
Fling!
Oh, Reader. I could fling so many people. Couldn't we all? Although I wonder, am I alone in my desire to fling my fellow human beings?
I realize talk of this nature may seem curious and possibly upsetting, but truly there's no need for concern. The Odd Broad is a happy, well adjusted gal. Nobody at my workplace would ever suspect I'd be fantasizing about inflicting bodily harm on anyone, such is my peaceful, happy demeanor.
But we both know the truth: if this broad had her way she'd be flinging morning, noon, and night.
Guess I'd better start working out.
If you remember, my favorite thing was stabbing people in the forehead with a spork.
Do you know how many people are running around this city w/ sporks sticking out of their foreheads?!
It makes me happy.
Fling away!!!
Posted by: Weinerdog | August 31, 2007 at 02:33 PM
I'm glad that I can always count on your support in these matters.
Posted by: The Odd Broad | August 31, 2007 at 02:54 PM