Still Stabby

I regret to inform you that the Vitamin D did not do as promised and cure my stabbiness. At first, I thought maybe it was working. Suddenly I felt all footloose and fancy free. I had the sudden urge to dance to "Money Money", and to tell everyone around me that its the best song of the 80's, no OF ALL FUCKING TIME.
But then I just realized I was just drunk.
Once I sobered up a bit, the stabbiness came back with a vengeance.
I don't know if it has anything to do with the fact that I missed nearly all the doses and then took all seven at once?
There was literally no directions on the bottle. It said, and I quote "Take as directed."
So I just did what I did with the birth control pill, which was to take all of the missed doses as a mass, catch up dose. Which seemed to work pretty good.
Minus the three kids, of course.

Anyways. The stabbiness came back.
"How on earth do you stay so SLIM, Randine," a coworker asked me. The way she said it, it sounded almost like an accusation of some sort.
Immediately I felt vaguely defensive.
After all, I wouldn't ask someone "How on earth do you stay so CHUBBY?"
Oh but I suppose since I'm not (supposedly) chubby it's OK to ask about my stature in front of a roomful of people? This goes back to my days as an awkward preteen. A traumatic incident.  I was all dressed up to go to a wedding. My self esteem was shoddy, even then- especially then, but having said that I was feeling pretty proud of myself with my french twist and black dress. And then one of my old, eccentric aunties approached me, and in front of everyone said with a swirl of her drink:
"OH, LOOK AT YOU, but aren't you just a BEAN POLE!"

Anyways, flash forward twenty years and I am still taking flack for it.
Another coworker jumped in, perhaps sensing my discomfort.
"It's called three kids and a full time job," she said with a laugh.
There.
End of conversation.
Right?
Wrong.
She (the other co worker, the offending party) dug her feet in the ground, shook her head. "No. I have a kid and a full time job," she said staunchly.
First of all- your kid is twenty three years old. That's a little different than chasing a two year old.
Or at least, it should be.
Secondly, your job?
Sitting on a chair for eight hours a day.
My job?
Being run off  my feet for eight hours a day.
"It's your metabolism," she pronounced. "Some people are just lucky."
I felt the stabiness prickling me everywhere.
"No," I said. "I'm actually pretty crazy busy most days. Half the time I don't get a chance to eat."
She still looked skeptical, perhaps because I had a doughnut on my lunch break, which she had seen me consume.
Well, sue me for having one doughnut in the last month.
Okay, maybe two. And actually, it was a long john.
But still.
The point is, I eat pretty fricking healthy nine times out of ten. Or at least seven or eight.

So as promised, the stabiness scale revisited:
How stabby do you feel on a scale of one to ten: nine
Pink or purple: pink
Favorite pizza topping: cheese
What are you wearing right now: khaki pants and a tank top (an improvement you say: not really. I'm only not in my pyjamas because I'm behind in the laundry. What am I going to wear to bed tonight you ask? Geoffs Corona tank top that he got free from a rep at work. I know. Awesome.)
First word that comes to mind when you hear the word knife: carve
Was Lassie good or evil: Evil.

I think its an improvement.
Basically, the only question that counts is the first one.
The rest are just for fun.

Feeling Stabby

Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself: "I am not going to feel stabby today. NO MATTER WHAT. Not even a little bit, Randine. And I'm serious this time. You're not going to pull that shit you did yesterday."

Don't look at me like that. Everyone talks to themselves sometimes, I think.

"Choose Your Attitude" I say, thinking of this work- what do they call it- morale, I think- thing that we had to watch at work where people threw fish at each other and laughed about it and a bunch of weird shit like that.
But the stabiness comes, anyways.

Eg:

Geoff and I have this ongoing feud between jasmine rice and sticky rice.
I prefer jasmine rice, and being the buyer and preparer of the food- jasmine rice it is in our house.
Geoff always sulks about this.
Tonight we sat down to eat, he scooped the rice on his plate with a heavy sigh, as though burdened by this hardship.
"Look." I said, dropping my fork with a loud clank.  "If you don't like the rice, don't fricking eat it."
"I didn't even say anything about the rice. I was just breathing."
And suddenly I'm stabby again. I'm looking at my fork and thinking about making it into a shank. Or better yet- I could just use that steak knife right beside it.

And then I go on my Facebook page and I see someones status update:
"I would rather go to jail for spanking my kids than see them go to jail because I didn't."
Three people "liked" this status.
Which, whatever.
But. First of all: as if you're going to go to jail for spanking your kid. You're not getting any sympathy from me on this.
And secondly, don't take the moral high ground on me because I'm not a spanker. I doubt, highly doubt, that my children are going to end up jail because I didn't spank them.
In fact, I'm pretty sure that if you go to a prison right now- any prison- and asked any random inmate in there what caused them to become criminals, "Too much coddling from my parents" would not be the first thing out of their mouths.
In fact, I think that's just about the last thing they might way.
So SHUT IT with your self righteous status updates.
I don't freaking need it.

But now I know why I'm so stabby.
Vitamin D.
I read on a website- very legit I'm sure- that Vitamin D deficiency is basically the root of all evil.
Feeling tired?
Vitamin D
Feeling cranky?
Vitamin D
Cancer?
Vitamin D
Sores?
Vitamin D
Syphillis?
Vitamin D
Married to Mel Gibson?
Vitamin D

So I'm going to start on Vitamin D, and see if I feel less stabby in a week.
And to test my hypothesis, I'm going to self administer a stabby scale, which I created just now in my head, which has basically no psychological validity at all whatsoever, but I think it will be a good pre test post test measure.


How stabby do you feel on a scale of 1-10: 10
What are you wearing right now: Pyjamas
Pink or purple: Pink
Favorite Pizza Topping: Cheese
The first word that comes to mind when I say knife: stab
Yellow or orange: neither
Was Lassie good, or evil: Evil. That's why they shot him.

OK. So now we wait. I'll start taking the Vitamin D and let you know in a week if I'm less stabby.
In the meantime, do not stop by, unless you want to get stabbed. We can just chat online, it's better that way for both of us: less stabbing for you, and I can stay in my pyjamas, and I don't have to clean my kitchen. Not that I would anyways. I would just steer you clear of the kitchen.

My poor,dear aunty decided to pay me a visit this weekend past. I wasn't in a very good mood. The kids had been in and out for about a solid hour, always leaving the door wide open. The dog had run away about eleven times. Alex had woken up from his nap about three times.
"Stop coming in and out," I told them firmly, shutting the door behind them and locking it.
Three seconds later. Ding Dong.
"I told you to stay out!" I said as I flung the door open.
And there stood my dear old aunty with a sheepish look on her face and pink present in her hand.
"Sorry, I guess I should have called first."
I kind of felt like an asshole about that.
Anyways. Blame it on the Vitamin D.
I'll let you know how it goes.