Xanax anyone?

I think it’s fair to say that things that probably don’t bother most people irritate me. I mean, most people probably don’t get irritated by the mind numbingly bad fashion choices of their co-workers and go around secretly nominating people for What Not to Wear. And, I’d wager a guess that it isn’t everyone who gets annoyed when someone who is not on his or her floor uses “his or her” public office bathroom. And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t go through most days without asking myself at least once, “What is wrong with me?” or questioning whether I should be on some time of medication. (And I don’t mean St. John’s Wart or some natural mood elevator, I’m talking serious shit that requires Dr. Freud to whip out the prescription pad and start writing.) But today was different. Today I was angry. And although irritable, I rarely get really angry. Yesterday my friend and co-worker asked me if I could pick her up at the auto body shop this morning and drive her into work. So I set my alarm a little early and drove left so that I would get there at the agreed upon time at 8:15. I contemplated stopping at Starbucks for a warm Apple Caramel Spice, but I knew she loved Starbucks and figured it would be kind of crappy if I showed up with a warm tasty treat and she had nothing. Between the ride to work and strong will of Starbucks resistance, I felt like a pretty good friend. Pats on the back for me. That is until she got all shitty on me in the parking lot of our office building because I parked in a different lot than she was used to and she didn’t know how to get to her desk from the car. Now, our building is big, 3,000 people; however, it is only three floors and IS A SQUARE. Which even the geometrically challenged should realize that if you just keep walking in the same direction on your floor, you would eventually pass your desk. And I’m sorry, but, um, if you are 33 years old, you should be able to find your desk without a fucking GPS system in the building you have worked in for SEVEN years. Oh, and she was also pissed because I had stopped at Starbucks, despite the fact I had asked her if she minded, and she said, “No, not at all.” Not just “no”, she added “not at all”. I’m sorry, but to me that means it isn’t a problem. Not to mention, she spent the next ten minutes debating whether it was socially acceptable to get a café mocha at 8:20 in the morning. (My opinion, who the fuck cares.) Anyway, by the time we got to the office and parking lot three (which from her reaction you would think was in fuggen Kansas), it was about 8:45. And these three numbers were apparently enough to cause her to have a verbal Tourettes flip out on me in parking lot three. At 8:45 in the morning, I don’t have the patience for this shit. (Okay, you could insert any time, day or night into that sentence and it would be true.) So, I summon my calm yet clearly pissed voice (which I think I have perfected) and quietly told her, “If you needed to get to work, you should have told me when I ASKED you and we wouldn’t have gone to Starbucks.” And then I turned around and coolly walked away as she stood there with her café mocha (apparently it is socially acceptable). Granted, my cool walk away couldn’t really be a storm off considering I was trying to balance my dry cleaning, new wool tartan tote bag (thanks to Employee of the Month bonus for August), laptop case, empty diet coke can, my Dunder Mifflin lunch bag (the office rules!), and off course my medium cinnamon dolce skim latte (refuse to order by Starbucks rule. Grande = whatevah!). So, it wasn’t the effect I wanted, but I was proud of myself, because what I had really wanted to do was get all Mommy Dearest on her ass and scream, “I was doing you a favor! Or do you think I wanted to get up extra early and drive out of my way to take you to work? But, I did it. So, if I wanted to take a g. damn tour of Bergen County this morning, you should have just shut your mouth and dealt with it!” Or at the very least, paid for my cinnamon latte!