Maybe I am a weak person. But if someone is in a bad mood around me, I find it really difficult not to be effected by it. Their negative energy is like a disease that spreads through my cells and exterminates my essence. It is like a cancerous mole that I know is going to kill me, but I don’t know how to remove. At least without creating a scar, and what is worth then death then an ugly scar right?
Typically my first approach when dealing with a cantankerous person is to see if they have any canker sores. Obviously. This usually results in them trying to bite me, and then I have to rule out rabies as well. More because I don’t think I would look very cute foaming at the mouth, unless you are into that sort of thing.
My next step would be to try and get them in a better mood. This is a complex undertaking. Morphing someone from being a sourpuss cunt into being pleasant is a lot like a reverse birth. It is quite challenging to stuff a baby back in if you know what I mean?
You have to perform like a Cirque de Soleil contortionist… easing the putridness of their foul disposition. It is tricky, and involves looking at your own genitals in strange angles, but worth it if you care about the person. You know that famous quote…. “Those that are hardest to love need it the most.” So when someone is being a total dick, it is because they need an emotional blow job.
But guess what? Sometimes no matter how hard you try, nothing you do cheers them up, because ultimately you are not responsible for their feelings. At this point you can either the the hell away from them, or be sucked into the vortex of their misery. Then their crappy ass mood becomes yours, and you sadly have fully surrendered to the black hole of their cosmic force of gloom.
For me, one of the hardest thing about being a parent is how controlled I am by the moods of a baby. A FREAKING BABY! A miniature tyrant whose brains has HARDLY EVEN FORMED! What is wrong with me? It is like blaming a shark for eating you when you have your period. What? Sharks are kinky like that.
I mean Munch can’t even put her own pants on and I let her rule my emotional wellbeing. When she is in a good mood, I am full of joy, effervescence, bubbles, and fairy dust. But when Munch is in a shitty mood, it literally sucks my will to live. I know that is insane, and kind of like living in an asylum and assuming others are making you crazy. If I were to give me advice it would be to toughen up my skin so it is more impermeable… but I can’t. I am too busy avoiding wrinkles.
“Your soul is mine Mama… oh, and can I have some more juice please?”