Godzilla vs. Tyrannosaurus

Ordinarily, I'm a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of girl. Sometimes it takes some effort to keep smiling, but usually it's a pretty honest reflection of my state of mind. When I do get mad, it tends to be expressed in a highly annoying passive aggressive manner. Most of the time.

This particular entry, however, is about the other times I get mad. The times that scare people. After all, it's Halloween, right?

Let me reflect back on my mother. She's an adorable lady who has been passionate in her moods for as long as I can remember. Whether she's sad, happy, mad, my mom does it to the umpteenth degree. Do you remember that scene in The Shining with Jack Nicholson axing through the door? My brother Mel and I lived through a similar scene growing up, except it was a really thick yardstick instead of an axe. I can't remember what we did, but mom didn't like it, and she liked it even less when we locked ourselves into my bedroom. Lucky for us, that particular room had a back exit, and we fled the scene and hid in the barn until our brothers calmed her down. There are also stories involving tennis rackets, lamps, and other objects being wielded as blunt weapons.

As I got older, I became much more skilled at calming her down. Humor is the best thing, but you have to nip things quickly before they really start to escalate. Usually, I just have to scream in a fake Japanese accent "Go-ji-ra is coming! Aaaieee!" and she'll start laughing.

I can be just as outwardly insane in my rage. Luckily for almost everyone, about the only place where it can be witnessed with some frequency is at my parent's house. Usually, it involves my mother. Some fairly innocuous incident will set us both off, and suddenly our wrath is shaking the neighborhood to it's foundations. Children start to cry. Dogs start to howl. Threats are issued, we disown each other, we curse the very ground we stand on.

But, hey, you can only go so long. The following (translated from the original Spanish) is the usual outcome of these mighty duels of irrational rage.

"Wait... do you have any [delicious Peruvian food] left?"
"Hmmm... yeah, I put some in the freezer. Oh, and I have [decadent dessert]."
"[Decadent dessert]! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Let's eat!"

So, thank my mom. Without her, I'd probably have to subject someone else to these fits.

Well, enough of that. Chicken pot pie awaits.