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what you gain from losing it
Bitch’in Life

What You Gain from Losing It

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Ever shopped at Trader Joe’s on a Sunday morning?

I’m sorry — did I say TRADER JOE’S?

I meant RAGER JOE’S, which is what I call it the second I pull into the parking lot and realize that the person who designed their goddamn tiny-ass parking lots probably also devises evil Halloween corn mazes in his or her spare time for shits ‘n giggles.

For the record, I HATE Halloween corn mazes. They’re right up there with puppets, clowns, carnies and Victorian dolls in terms of fear and loathing.

The saddest part about this particular Sunday morning excursion is that it came on the heels of a perfectly delightful group meditation session.

Astute readers of this here blog know that I’ve been working with some pent up aggression of late. Trying hard to stop being so damn scrappy, letting go of grudges and generally doing the work to get centered and be a happier, healthier human being.

I didn’t lose it immediately — in fact, the second I walked in the store and heard the soothing strains of Hall & Oates, I took a deep healing breath and let it out while sniffing a few melons, which always calms me down.

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real first rule of fight club
Bitch’in Life

The Real First Rule of Fight Club

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Everyone knows the first rule of Fight Club – you do not talk about Fight Club.

This is easy to keep to if you’re not much of a scrapper. Sure you might have the wayward fantasy of blasting someone with your lungs or your fists, but for the most part, at this stage, in this game, we keep it to ourselves.

After all, we have reputations to uphold, examples to make.

That is until you find yourself in a place where you can’t help but let it rip. And in recent weeks I have had not one but two Fight Club challenges that I couldn’t resist.

The first took place in the early morning at a Jamba Juice. I was rushing (as usual), and my daughter wanted to pick up a smoothie for a friend’s birthday. I jammed into a parking spot in front of the store, and my daughter and I hopped out with the intention of getting in and out quickly.

“You’re parked awfully close to me,” the guy in the spot next to me said. He was sitting in his truck, window opened as it waiting for someone… or maybe something.

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Ebony & Ivory live together in perfect harmony - so what my problem?
Bitch’in Life

Grudge Match

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Every month when Vanity Fair arrives, I immediately turn to the back page to the “Proust Questionnaire,” where famous people are asked philosophical questions that supposedly reveal their true nature like, “What is your idea of perfect happiness?” and “How would you like to die?”

But my favorite question by far is, “What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?”

That’s the money question — the one that most reveals the underbelly of the beast in question. I’m intrigued by the self-serving (i.e., Danielle Steele’s answer: “not always standing up for myself enough”) and impressed by how many people say, “procrastination,” from my Facebook peeps to Cathy Rigby.

If I were to take VF‘s Proust Questionnaire, I’d skip the lighter, albeit mortal, sins like gluttony and sloth (sorry procrastinators, that’s your category!), and go right to the gusto: wrath. Or, as I like to practice it: grudge holding.

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