Thursday, September 29, 2011

No one messes with my mornin'! It's gonna' get ugly...

I'm a trickster, or as one of the most terrifying villains of all times, Gollum, from the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, would call me, a TRIXY.

This TRIXY has imposed awful practical jokes over the years on people I love and, with a sly grin, on people I don't care for.  Me?  Not like people?  Bri hold grudges? ("Father forgive me for I have sinned, my last confession was...")  YES!  YES!!  It's true.  I am a naughty, nasty, hold grudges kind o' gal. 

Bert
Now if it makes any of you, my readers and friends, feel better - some grudges are held for far less time than others.  It truly depends on the crime against this blog writer.  For instance, when Eric makes me angry I can only hold it against him for as long as it takes his eyebrows to knit into a quizzical what did I do, I'm confused sort of fashion.  Because you see, my husband in truth never knows exactly what he's done to make me angry.  The moment his brow (I typed, "eyebrows" in the sentence above.  In reality, he only has one.  I call it the "Unibrow" or the "Bert Brow" from Sesame Street...) moves up in a solid line towards his forehead and his eyes show intense concern for his or my well being, I start laughing.  Whatever it was that I was angry about I've forgotten and sometimes that pisses me off too because seriously - can't a girl stay mad at her husband for longer than 10 minutes?  Geez, what's the world coming to these days?

Then there are the people I don't care for.  People in my past who have done me wrong in some way or another and I must seek silent reparation in the form of a carefully crafted joke or inconvenience.  Eeeewww.  It all sounds so vile as I type it.  (I'm grinning from ear to ear as I recall some of my greatest victories.)  Forgive and forget, that's right.  Move on.  Yeah, right.

However, being a TRIXY doesn't always involve retribution.  It can also be a form of great joy and diversion from the everyday doldrums.  I'm very good at dishing them out.  I've also been on the receiving end of a huge one at a company holiday party involving a false lottery ticket (yes, I'm ashamed to admit I would have tried to cash it in at "yo, mama's house").  But for the most part, I'm usually the only one in my household who's brave enough or knows how to get away with something.  I know who I can tease.  I know when to stop.  AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, I know where to draw the line. 

It appears that there is a new TRIXY in the Potts' abode and this house isn't big enough for the two of us.  Mama knows her spice cabinet.  In fact, just last night I organized it so there is no mistaking this morning's incident for an absentminded, sleepy-headed, dumb-ass maneuver.  The other TRIXY placed the Paprika bottle where I keep my Cinnamon.  Who knows where I'm going with this??  Who remembers how Breezy loves her morning joe?  Her candy bar in a cup?  Her nectar of the Gods?  Her cup o' coffee?  That's right.  She sprinkles a generous amount of cinnamon in her coffee grounds before it brews.  Yeeesss, my preeeeciouuuusss.  William has crossed the line of all that is sacred and holy.  This means war baby, boy.  THIS MEANS WAR!