Tanty Pants

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Kids hate coffee shops. 

I hate waiting in line. 

My sister hates slow drivers and mess. 

My flatmate hates moths. 

My beloved hates every football team except Manly. 

Sometimes life just makes you want to chuck a tantrum, doesn’t it?

Now, I’m aware I’m talking about first world problems here. No one is actually going to enter starvation or war or death or poverty over these issues (except perhaps the Manly thing). But they are still significant issues. Particularly significant because they are all issues that impact my life. 

For example. 

My beloved was watching a particularly boring nail-biting match of footy, and after bellowing several rants, whispered “This is what causes disease!” I think she was referring to the tension of the match, rather than the fact that I was trying desperately to distract her.

With what I am told is an important game of footy happening this weekend, I think it should be considered community service that I am about to share with you my secret to managing tanty pants.

Are you ready for this?

Here it is:

A leaf.

A regular, every day leaf. Not a tobacco leaf, not an unnecessarily illegal leaf, just a leaf.

I gently and calmly and respectfully suggest that she moves the leaf.

The advice comes from Pixar, makers of a bunch of pretty awesome films –  including A Bug’s Life.

Here’s the scene:

Imagine it: traveling along, and all is going well. And then from NOWHERE a HUGE and HORRIBLE and NASTY LEAF gets in your way.

You will find yourself with two options: Put on your tanty pants, or move the leaf.

I have been known to wear the pants of tantrum.

I was particularly troubled when my corner or the first world was overrun with insufficient maps of the public transport system in Sydney. I could see that one particular bus would get us close to our destination, but having no idea of the actual proximity to the drop off point, I found the vagueness of the maps somewhat shitful. In fact, I think I called the map an arsehole.

This troublesome time was further compacted with the racket that millions of motorbikes make when driving in a pack. I deemed the noise disrespectful, their pack riding mentality to be cowardly, and seriously considered calling the EPA before I bought a pair of ear plugs.

Not only did I have my tanty pants on, but they were so far buried up my arse that it would be a miracle if I was able to ever fart again.

Add to this the heat. A hangover. Tiredness.

This was the leaf from hell that plonked itself right in my path. My rule of three was thrown out the window, and madness began to set in.

I was on the cusp of shredding the leaf while yelling profanities and stomping my feet, when I saw my long-suffering beloved looking somewhat puzzled and amused by my behaviours. I sighed – not a gentle and relenting sigh, but a sigh full of huffy puff and first world piousness. I resisted the urge to shove the leaf up her nose. I took her hand, and I did it:

Then I moved the leaf.

It worked, but my GOD what an annoying expression it is.

Move the leaf? Move yourself you stupid leaf lover! The fucking leaf landed in MY way so why should I have to move it? Get some independence, LEAF! Get out of my WAY, LEAF! I hope you get eaten by bugs, LEAF!

Disregard this post. If someone is cross, let them be cross. Just get out of the line of fire.

Unless you want to really piss them off, in which case just tell them to move the leaf.

 

 

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