All Psychics Are Misunderstood


(So I have linked bad music, also known as Bad Day by Daniel Powter (Live) for you to listen to as you read the rest of this post.)

Perhaps I’m not so misunderstood as I am so MISUNDERSTANDING!

Seriously.  I’m having one of those days where every sentence out of my husband’s mouth sounds like a personal attack:

S: Hey do you and E want some one-on-one time after preschool?

Me: What?  Are you saying we aren’t close?  That I’m not spending enough time with E?  Why don’t you want to hang out with ME?  Why don’t you want to hang out as a FAMILY!

Every phone message is secretly encoded with bad news:

Friend: Hey Alex! Can you call me back?

Me: What?  You hate me?  I never call back?  THAT’S NOT TRUE!  Why aren’t you answering your PHONE!

And don’t even get me started with Twitter.  If I get offended by one more tweet or follow and unfollow one more person, I’m going to get flagged as SPAM and banned for life.

In fact, the best decision, that I made all day, was to stop checking Facebook since I actually KNOW most of those people and could get myself into some real trouble. The type of trouble that you run into the next day and have to hide in an overgrown alley until the offended person gets back into her car with the baseball bat.

I spent an hour on a post that was awful. The first half made fun of a innocuous tweet by a fellow Twitter-er-er (tweeple?  tweeter?  tweetinator?).  And I spent the rest of the post putting myself down. Neither of which is very funny.  Well, there was one funny line: I’m not naming names so as not to invoke the ire of this tweeple, also known as, I don’t want to get UNFOLLOWED. Getting unfollowed HURTS MY FEELINGS!  MY TWEELINGS! (I know.  If that is the funniest line, you are giving me the virtual high-five for scrapping it.)

I don’t think that I’m overly-tired or hormonal or unspiritual today.

It’s just one of those days.

I would ask for a hug, but I’m not really a huggy person.  And if you touch me, I’ll know you are also planning to stealing my wallet.  And I will have to slug you.  Because, clearly, TODAY I CAN READ MINDS.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

3 thoughts to “All Psychics Are Misunderstood”

  1. Hahahahaha! (That's me literally laughing out loud…I didn't want to use llol in fear you'd think it stood for something else and get offended…and anytime you don't need a hug, you know the girl to call.) 😉

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.