Apparently, I Am a Member of the Okie Mafia

So I'm not one to get angry very easily. I'm what you call a slow burn. I take it. And I take it. And I take it. And I take it. And I take it.

And then...

Ba-boom!

I have the totally inappropriate blowup.

My father is that way as well. I can count on one hand the times he got angry during my childhood. Usually the anger resulted in a hole in the wall. And usually nobody was every sure what set him off.

Anger: It's not an emotion my father and I are too familiar with, and we do not handle it well.

So what's the point in me telling you all of this?

"Weeelllllll," she says shrugging her shoulders while blushing.

This week I had a little blow up. Unlike my father, however, I don't get physical. I tend to have words come out of my mouth that not even I use. And the way in which I put these words together...well all I can say it that it doesn't even really make sense, especially when I go into Okie Mafia mode.

What is Okie Mafia mode?

OK. I'm not angry right now, but I'm going to try to show you. Try to imagine this being said with a total New York housewife accent blended with Okie hick.

Yeah. I know. It doesn't even make sense. I'm almost to embarrassed to write it. But I will.

"You son of b*tch. Do you know who I am? Well you should. Because I efff'in know EVERYBODY. And eff'in EVERYBODY knows me. And I have a lot of eff'in friends, a lot of eff'in LOYAL friends. And if you, you total eff-tard, think you can mess with me or my family, you have know eff'in idea the wrath that I will bring down upon you. NO EFF'IN IDEA! You don't know when it will happen. But it will happen. And when it does, you'll know it's me. But you'll never be able to eff'in prove it, you stupid mother eff'in son of white trash piece of garbage that I wouldn't eat even if it were the last piece of food on the earth and I had been starvin' for week."

See?

It doesn't make sense.

I don't know everybody.

Everybody doesn't know me.

I don't know if I can get you back.

And quite frankly, once I'm not angry any more, I don't even really care if I ever get you back.

And I really don't know what's with the eatin' garbage bit. I wouldn't eat garbage. Though I suppose if I were really starving I might try it. But if you were the garbage I'd probably apologize first.

See? It makes no sense.

But I did it again, earlier this week. It being blowing my top. Fortunately for me I was in my own house, my kids were at school, and my husband was the only one who heard it. I should probably thank him for not bursting out in laughter at my ridiculousness as I was ranting. Though I have to say maybe he didn't laugh out of self-preservation. I mean did you hear my Mafia Okie speech? I'd be afraid if I were him.