"Learn to Deal with it, Pork Chop"

I may be passive-aggressive, but I'm also a bank teller.

So you should listen to me when I say how you should get your money, the combination of 10s, 20s, or 50s and such.

Not only because I know a lot about these things from dealing with money nearly every waking hour I'm here, but also because you are far less likely to get an eye-roll from me if you just go along with me on this.

You should also know that when I am trying to figure out what the heck is scribbled down on a Deposit Slip, that is NOT the time to tell me I'm sullen and argumentative.  Even if you're my supervisor. ESPECIALLY if you’re my supervisor. I mean, who died and made you Kierkegaard?

I am not sullen, nor argumentative. I have just been feeling a little down because the glaciers are shrinking. And I only argue because I'm usually right when it comes to matters of fact.

I nearly graduated college.

Twice.

It might also help to know that if I tell you that I have a hangnail that's killing me, even if you just came by to cash a check, do NOT look at me like I'm crazy. I just wanted to let you in on what's going on in my life. That's all.

Being passive-aggressive does not come easy, nor is it all that fun. And not just in the bank.

So, if you happen to work at a cute little boutique and I'm in there shopping, please don't come over and ask me if I need help. I don't. I'll come get you if I need help. Ditto if you're a waiter and you come over to ask how everything is five seconds after you've delivered my food. Hey, I have no idea! I just got it five seconds ago!

Not that I'm going to complain to your face or anything, but you're really bugging the heck out of me, so please just leave me alone. If I want to see this top in a larger size or if my Chinese Chicken Salad needs more sesame dressing, I'll get you. Promise.

If you're one of my friends and you invite me over for dinner, you already know it's okay to give me some good-natured ribbing. But, and I want to make this clear, you should only point out the stuff I already know, like I'm self-obsessed or talk about American Idol too much. But if you choose to focus on the fact that I should be going to the gym more often or that I don't know anything about the Etruscan artifact black market and I should just stay out of the conversation... OUCH! That is hitting below the belt. So cut it out.

I should also let you know not to bring up my mother. Only I am allowed to bring up my mother.

On another note, when you come over to my house and if something looks geeky and out-of-place like an almond and oatmeal soap bar in my bathroom or a Martha Stewart magazine, don't bring it up. That object belonged to or is the direct result of my stupid ex-boyfriend, no matter what it is.

And hey, if you are the Gas Company, Electric Company, or that guy on my commute who drives a crappy dune buggy with Confederate flags hanging all over it, you deserve a good rebuking and apparently I'm going to be the only one brave enough to tell you.

You are a slave to Big Brother, if you are the former, or a guy who needs to take a serious look at his personal life, if you are the latter.

If you happen to be a TV personality, please stop talking about the hardship you've been dealt. You have a multi-million dollar home and don't have to waltz into work until 11am. You can't begin to understand what I go through on a daily basis. Just concentrate on your good fortunes and tell me how that's going for you. Because the chances are slim that anybody watching you on Oprah including myself will ever know how that feels. Count your lucky stars, bucko.

Also, everyone, please do not interrupt me when you see me at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and I am on my "I could do that" diatribe. Don't you have manners?

I should also take a moment to tell every single one of you that no matter who you are, how long your family has been in this country, or even if I was one of your bridesmaids, there is some small, yet exceedingly disturbing thing about you that I really don't like.

Whew, that felt good to get off my chest.

Thank you for your time.

By the way, if you dug this out of the trash, put it back right now! What are you doing digging in the garbage, anyway?

This doesn't belong to you!

Besides, I'm just kidding around.