S.F.I.

I have S.F.I.  
Lots of people in the world have SERIOUS FUCKING ISSUES, but most won’t admit it.  I hate that.  My boss is one of those people.  She's also a BACKSTABBING BITCH with a degree in ANAL RETENTION but that's another story for another day. Right now I’m here to talk about my ANGER.  I have ANGER ISSUES.  I’m angry all the time.  I get angry at everything.  Traffic.  Lines.  Bank tellers.  Kinko’s on a Friday afternoon.  Stepping in dog shit.  Parking tickets.  I hate parking meter maids so much I want to slam their heads into the hood of my car.

My family keeps telling me to go to Anger Management Classes.  I probably should.  I mean, I do have a lot of anger. RAGE, too.

Like, when I’m driving in my car and I do something nice for another driver- you know, like let him pass in front of me or something like that… ALL I’m asking for is a little courtesy, you know? How hard is it to NOD some thanks?!  Watch! (nod thanks)  Or how bout a quick wave?  (start to show wave, then…)  Oh, right.  You can’t wave. Cause your CELL PHONE IS GLUED TO YOUR HAND!  Why don't you get OFF the PHONE and say THANK YOU, you ungrateful piece of SHIT?  Makes me want to get out of my car, walk up to their window and SHOVE THEIR HEAD INTO THE STEERING WHEEL. Maybe the next time they'll remember to say THANK YOU.


The government should give cards to people with S.F.I.

I think it would benefit society if I carried my own S.F.I. card. For example, in case I get in the WRONG line at the supermarket.  The line where the lady in front of me pull’s out a COUPON BOOK.  I always get behind someone with coupons. And a checkbook!  (Who writes checks anymore?) Of course, half of the coupons are EXPIRED, and the cashier has to check the date on EACH ONE, and when she's finally done and it's my turn, she looks at me and says, "Sorry, this lane is closed." And walks away! Of course, my blood is BOILING and I want to rip all of her hair out but I head over to the  "12 items or less" line. There's like 50 people in it. (slight exaggeration, more like 8 or 9) They all have more than 12 items. (GRRRRR...) The only other cashier is a 100 years old and can barely pick up the milk to scan it. When it's my turn the manager shows up to give Abe Lincoln his lunch break and now, at this point in time, I'm thinking about PUSHING EVERYONE OUT OF MY WAY and taking over the register! But if I had an S.F.I. CARD, I could flash it to everyone- and they'd all start RUNNING! 

Hmmm… I might be onto something here… I should ask one of my doctor's to hook me up with an S.F.I. Card.  After all, they’ve done so much for me the last twenty years. “Try this new drug, Amy!  It’s supposed to ease your anxieties… with only a few minor side effects such as headaches, dry mouth, nausea, excessive SWEATING, nasal drip, HALLUCINATIONS, dizzy spells, RECTAL bleeding, vaginal discharge and you may develop ZITS all over your ASS.  Oh, and I should also mention, it might decrease your sexual drive, just a teensy bit.”  Another words, it will take away ALL of my sexuality, so I feel like neither a MAN nor a WOMAN, but a depressed, ugly, ASS- BLEEDING BITCH!!!  

AWESOME!  Thank you, Doctor!  Yippee! I’m cured! I’m not angry anymore! Now I’m depressed and suicidal!  I think I’ll go for a drive… right off the side of THE FUCKING MOUNTAIN!

I decided to write a short film about my battle against my "issues." Maybe you'll check it out and have some laughs. It's ten minutes. Titled, "GUNS vs. ISSUES" www.youtube.com/amywadeactress