itchy sweaters

Sometimes, I get annoyed,  I'm not gonna lie, it happens.  Sometimes I am beyond the grasp of life's

 petty little swipes at my contentment...more often that not I let the hooks sink deeply into my flesh, sending irritating barbs that wrap around  stubbornly refusing to let go.  Sometimes when one of these little barbs comes in contact with a particularly sensitive nerve, I have been known to utter a stream of colorful words that may include but are not limited to the following: crap on a marshmallow! or poop on a stick!  The problem is that there just seems to be so many things that get under my skin.  Racists and perverts are well beyond annoying me, they send me straight to rage,  but poorly worded advertisements, small mindedness, large white zits on faces, stupid questions(yes there is so such a thing- for example the time when I gave my name and the girl said "is that with a k?")  , house flies that land on your face when you are trying to sleep- in, mosquitoes that swarm you in the evening or dive bomb past your ears when you try to fall asleep, a single beam of light shining in  your eyes while you try to fall asleep in an otherwise darkened room, nasty airport workers(are they on some sort of prison release program?) people who chew with their mouths open, or smack their gum, or who use poor table manners, parents who let their child walk over and dip his chubby fingers in my ketchup at McDonald's, so he can suck them off, loud people who force you to listen to what they consider to be hilarious banter on airplanes in malls or restaurants, people who lie, or finesse you, energy vampires, and about 1000 other things I am too annoyed to write about.  All of these things are like wearing an itchy sweater, you recoil the instant it touches your skin, then you try to ignore it and think of something else, like flannel pj s, but every time you move it it is there, grating on your flesh, cutting it off in long shards.  At which point you decide to rip it from your now lacerated skin, and hurl it to the floor.  It is at this moment that you realize that you neglected to where a t-shirt underneath, believing that you would be able to overcome the mere annoyance of that heinous sweater.  So you are stuck wearing your torture for the rest of the day.  But unlike the aforementioned annoyances, you may not be able to get home and tear it off, if you were to do that to an airport personal, you could wind up with "cavity search" at the top of your list...so what is a person to do when we are placed  by happenstance in such petty,yet ridiculous situations?  I really don't know.  But it does feel a little better now that I have gotten it off my chest.  I hate to leave you feeling all dark, so when I was 4 a neighbor tore down their fence and i found the urge to dance on the boards in my bare felt irresistible.  My brother warned me that it was dangerous, but i was a pretty good dancer and assured him that my moves were too smooth for things like splinters or nails.  Well to cut a short story shorter; I stepped onto, no hopped onto a nail sticking straight up and landed on it with all my weight, forcing it through my foot.  So nails, much like itchy sweaters seem to always get the better of me.