My astrological sign is cancer. I’m totally an invasive disease that gets in you and eats you up with anger. My symbol is the crab. I’m totally the gnarly crab nipping at your toes and making your day unpleasant. That is, if you’re my spouse. For those of you not related to me by blood or marriage, only a very few of you have witnessed first-hand the biting-ness that is Christine in full wrath mode (I’m lookin’ at Erin and Monya as my main non-legally-bound victims.) (Sorry.) (Sort of.).
I like to fight. I’m a crab named Cancer--and I’m not into that zodiac stuff—and I like to brawl. I would say that for the most part I’m mature enough to keep my rage in check, but, honestly, I’m a rage-oholic. It’s true. My favorite thing to do lately is to swear at old ladies in parking lots. Now, I’m not talkin’ about I’m in my car, they’re in their car, their bad driving makes me yell road rage obscenities. No. I’m talkin,’ I’m walking in the parking lot, she’s walking in the parking lot, and something about her very existence just pisses me off. So I curse her out. Not loudly, but not quiet either.
I don’t know where the new old lady rage came from. It seems like some sort of Freudian internalized misogyny, right? Or like I’m victimizing the helpless because it’s easy. Or maybe I’m lashing out at a vision of myself that I fear: aged, out-of-touch, fragile.
I don’t know why. I just know it’s fun. So, generally, don’t get too close to me. There’s a safety zone of about 100 feet, but closer than that, and you’re fair game. Especially if you’re an old lady.
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You Cancers are either good or evil. I've found that out the hard way! (My ex-boss Cory, for instance, among others--and I know A LOT, actually.)
Your rage has only bitten me a couple times and you calmed down eventually...it's your southern charm that takes over, I think.
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