It wasn't a good look, but no amount of therapy or meditation (my mantra made me EVEN. Now, please note, I'm still an angry bird, to be sure. ANGRIER.) or astrology retreats (I'm a Scorpio, doy) seemed to help with this particular issue. Surprisingly, the things that ended up helping me the most are arguably the things I have the most reason to be angry about. But now I'm acutely aware that things and jobs and people come ... And I can't afford to destroy what and whom I have. She is also the driving force of "Marry Me," Annie being the high-strung, over-sharing half of the couple around which the show revolves.
But I just wasn't sure what I was so angry And it's not just strangers who would get the brunt of my thrice-yearly explosions.
It was well-meaning boyfriends who wondered why we couldn't just "sleep on it and talk calmly in the morning? My prized girlfriends were patient, but I still have deep regret over the few times I turned my acid tongue on them.
I think it was because I always felt like they could handle it (and they could), but they shouldn't have had to. Over the years, I have thrown a Mountain Dew pager out the window of my boyfriend's car on the highway en route to Rehoboth Beach.
I've realized that anger doesn't seem to be as palatable on a woman as it is on a man. I'm angry at women who can't access their anger, or who cover it by masquerading as little sweeties, or those who display it and are off-putting. I've smashed my beloved bedazzled Sidekick into my dressing-room mirror at and left a trail of crushed Black Berrys in every shitty apartment complex in LA.
My mom was the president of the National Women's Political Caucus (an organization devoted to getting women elected) for the first several years of my life. or call my husband and see if he wants to go to the movies.