Bitch on the Blog

February 27, 2017

Tabula rasa

To blow the lid off yesterday’s vessel I will give you something to think about, to reflect on. A laughing matter it ain’t. In fact, I am in shock. Not that I should be since I have experienced same in a different guise before.

There I was, reading a comment. Unfortunately – and please do follow the story line – I didn’t take in the name of the commentator. By the tone of the voice, its sheer being obtuse, I “knew” who it was. Cue hackles rising. I worded my answer accordingly, erring on the acerbic side. Being my lucky day, before I pressed “publish” my gaze happened upon the name of the actual sender.

And what do you know? And this is the punchline and the whole point of this post – and it is shameful. Once I realized who it really was from my whole mindset changed. Suddenly, the very same text took on a completely different nuance. Seen though a filter of benevolence and affection I do have towards this particular commentator. How mad (subjective) is that? Needless to say that I deleted and re-wrote my answer.

If that doesn’t wake you to the vagaries  of human exchanges nothing will. I literally cannot believe it. When I say “it” I mean, I can’t believe that I fell into the very trap I so despair of with others.

U

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September 3, 2015

Encore

Filed under: Animals — bitchontheblog @ 21:16
Tags:

You know when I mentioned how patient I am?

Yet, just as with silent waters running deep, when a patient person runs out of that commodity [patience], anger rising, you will not want to be a mouse. In the house.

I have had it. Up to here. There are limits.

Admittedly I am torn. A mouse is just a mouse. And it’s not its fault – but I can’t live like this any longer.

What a little shite. Not only will it be dead I will bloody have my stomach turned.

U

April 1, 2014

Ceiling

Filed under: Errors — bitchontheblog @ 17:25
Tags: , ,

A word of warning: Today is April’s Fool Day. When the Angel left the house this morning I told him to be vigilant. Not that he is as naive as his mother (‘naive’ being the polite version of  ‘gullible’). There are people who can play pranks and then there are people like me who clearly lack both imagination and inclination to trip up others and laugh at their cost. Which is why, without fail, I’ll fall for others’ little ‘jokes’.

Come to think of it, and it wasn’t even the 1st of April, some balmy evening in Cyprus, accompanying FOS on a business trip, him working behind the scene, delegates assembling in the lobby. Closest I have ever come to being sexually assaulted, in public. Swiss guy. Middle aged. Elegant, impeccably dressed. He addressed me. And then he roared with laughter. I didn’t understand why he laughed. When I asked another guy, closer to my own then young age, to explain he blushed. Refused to expand. After dinner Mr Swiss took it one step too far. And suddenly the earlier incident clicked into place. I understood ok. I didn’t say anything since my husband was busy enough with the conference. Just retreated to our room. Word got out (as I said there had been witnesses on both occasions).  Oh dear, there are two types of men you don’t mess with: One are husbands and the other Cypriots, or any other man on the planet. When their women are compromised they go ballistic. And ballistic both FOS and his ground agent on Cyprus went. Mega. Any attempt of mine to diffuse the situation was met with “Just keep out of it”.  Still makes me smile. The actual ‘offence’ wasn’t a particularly big deal to me. Mark it off to experience.  FOS took it right to the top of the hosting company’s chairman. My oh my. What a stink. Mr Swiss apparently got the bollocking (!) of a life time. He did apologize to my husband. I have no idea why I find strands of this story funny, not least the last one. But I do.

Yes, pranks. Some are funny. Some not so much. Some will backfire. Today? So far so good. Another six hours to go and I will let my guard down. For any of you to walk straight into an open door.

U

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