So, So, Spiteful.

Someone asked me a few days ago why I named my blog the way I did.

Clearly this person does not know me as well as some of the rest of you do.

I am a very, very spiteful person.  That’s not to say I’m not nice.  I think I’m nice.  I have lots of friends, so I must not be that bad.  Granted, we all share a pretty twisted sense of humor.  But, really — I give money to charity, I’m always lending shoulders to cry on, I adopt homeless animals, and people regularly ask me to watch their babies.  So, I’d say in general, I’m a good person.

Also, Karma scares the crap out of me.  I try not to put things out there that I wouldn’t want to come back around my way.

But still…  when provoked, my initial guttural reaction is pure, unadulterated, spite.

Great example.  When I was about two years old, my mom had to go back to work.  When she told me, my reaction was to crawl under her king-sized bed, and pee on the floor.

When she told that story to my husband, he dubbed me The Spiteful Pee-er.

Which, unfortunately, is pretty accurate.  Even now, 28 years later — in addition to that initial desire to say or do something spiteful, is an instinct to pee on something.*

Like, your boss is rude to you?!  Pee on her chair!

That saleswoman was a bitch?!  Pee in the dressing room!

Your roommate didn’t clean up the kitchen?!  Pee in her bed!

*This reaction also falls under the category of oozing.  For as long as I can remember — my mother has encouraged me to fight these urges.

It should be noted, I don’t actually pee on things.  At least, not anymore.  It’s just a gut reaction.

Also, it’s not not really practical.  What if you accidentally peed on your shoes or something?  Then everyone knows it was you, and you smell like pee all day.

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