It's safe to say that I am not a violent person and I truly enjoy people and their company but in the past few weeks my actions have convinced me that not only do I have a brain tumor but I am also 92.6% sure I was a Bruce Lee Martial Arts Master in a Pre-Sally life, life. The examples are numerous with the most damning evidence being my overwhelming urge to karate chop any poor creature that does not move at my preferred speed, talks too much in a checkout lane or breathes too much. My patience is hanging by a noodle people.
I am a terrible person and I know this but it cannot be helped. Just last week this sweet little old creepy old little old fella was trying to be funny by telling bubble gum wrapper jokes while we were standing in the 5 hour checkout lane at Walmart. Now let me preface this by saying I purposely do without a cart on most visits so I will not buy unnecessary crap; this morning was no exception. While I'm standing there in the "Express Line" with an armload of private lady things, Mr. Last Comic Standing was un-charming our lane full of pissed off people with jokes a kindergartner wouldn't laugh at. I know this sounds awful but after 7 agonizing minutes of "Knock Knock" and "What Do You Get When ..." I found myself rounding back my shoulders, rolling by neck around and hopping up and down like Daniel-Son getting limber to preform a Karate Kid Crane Kick.
It all comes back to Bruce Lee. A smart mouth response from one of the kids could very easily result in a swift-kick to the legs and I have no problem breaking out some "Enter The Dragon" moves when my family chooses to not give my iconic meltdowns their due respect. Chop Chop people! I don't know where it comes from but I try hard to be pleasant but after a few minutes of a no thank you or ha ha laugh, I really need folks to back off. Not long ago I had to threaten a lady who was holding up the Diary Queen line with a Kung Pao Chicken to the neck look if she did not hurry up and place her order. For the love of Mr. Miyagi! It's freaking ice cream!
I know my kids think I am mental but this insane Hong Kong Fooey behavior and addiction to rice is only another symptom of my tumor of which I have no control. People should fear me but alas they do not. It must be my curly hair and angelic face. How could they possibly know that under my cool exterior a Karate Master lies in wait?
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