The Bash Box

This whole first part that I’m about to tell you has a purpose, and I’ll go on and tell you the purpose so you can prepare yourself. I am telling you all of this in hopes that you will feel sorry for me and not think I’m crazy. (Good luck with that one).

I have been crazy stressed. It’s different from the stress I’m used to feeling. It’s not that I’m-so-busy-I-can’t-breathe stressed, or the I-have-five-papers-due stressed. It’s more of a long term anxiety that is pretty hard to pinpoint. I think it’s related to a lot of things.

Note: The parenthetical comments are the things I hear you saying in my head as you read this. I thought I would include that for accuracy.

My List of Reasons You Should Feel Bad For Me:

1. After almost 24 years of singleness (Everyone who is older than me…uh, that’s almost everyone I know: You are how young?), I am about to become a married person. That’ll be a little bit of a transition. (All married people: Y’think??).

2. In preparation for said marriage, I am discovering that I am quite a selfish , clueless person, who is sometimes a downright jerk (Someone out there: It’s about time you realized.)

3. I am also finding out that I am such a girl. I know, the gender identity thing usually comes at around three or five or so. I’ve known I was a girl. I just didn’t realize I was such a girl. All of a sudden I’ve started crying all the time (My friends: gasp). I’ve never been a crier, and now tears suddenly seem like a reasonable response to being stressed, upset, tired, hurt, sick, pmsing, overwhelmed, confused, smelling something gross, or losing my other sock. When I complain and worry about this sudden crazy person who has come to inhabit my life, my friends have all responded in like form: “Um, you’re a girl.” I’m either highly relieved or terribly insulted. Maybe both.

4. Speaking of bad smells, can that be a stressor? Because my life has been smelling Bad. (Your life?) Ok, maybe not my life, but definitely Stinky River, which has a rather invasive presence in my life.

5. Hmm, where was I? Oh yes, everything in my life is about to change! My marital status, my job, my country, my place of residence, my name. And I will lose my crazy fan club, i.e. my students.

6. I am thinking about planning a wedding from a billion miles away. I say “thinking about” because it doesn’t feel like I’m able to do much more than stress about all I will need to do in the future. And look at 500 bridal sites online. And make myself feel better by making fun of all the ridiculous ways you can spend $50,000 on a wedding. Like a little purse to match your wedding gown. Who needs a wedding purse? You don’t carry a purse down the aisle. (Insulted voice of someone I don’t know: Hey, I liked my wedding purse.)

7. I am going to have to learn to cook. I mean, I can bake. I’m great at breads and deserts. The carb section is well taken care of. It’s just the other 5 categories I’m concerned about. Confession: I just looked up the food guide pyramid to see how many categories there are.

8. I am doing this crazy long distance relationship thing. I like the relationship part. It’s just the long distance part that I despise. Despise. That’s a descriptive word. I have gotten two kinds of well meaning advice and encouragement from people. A) People who have never been in a long distance relationship: “Oh, the time will go quickly!” B) People who have been in a long distance relationship: “I’m sorry - That sucks!” That alone gives me fuel for constant self pity as I imagine those people for whom engagement actually means being together sometimes (Yeah. ‘Cause you need more fuel for self pity.)

9. My feet are killing me. (What?? Now you’re just being ridiculous!) No really, they are. I’ve started limping by the end of every day. Not as bad as my teammate Matt, who is having leg trouble and thinking of buying a cane. Or maybe I was thinking of buying him a cane to be funny. Hmm, something like that. Mine is mainly from walking around and standing all day in bad shoes.

10. I know there was something else. Something really good, and if I could remember it then you would really feel sorry for me. Oh well. Just insert something really horrible and pitiable right here to conjure up the right emotion.

Where was I going with all of this? Oh yes. I was trying to make my life sound sad enough that you would feel bad for me instead of thinking I’m crazy. Pretty sure that didn’t work, so moving on to the subject matter: The Bash Box.

The Bash Box

All this stress I am feeling needs an outlet, and the other day Corrine brought up the perfect solution. Rather than breaking all the glass and china in your house—I haven’t done this, I swear. I’ve only thought about it—take out your anger on an innocent little box. I’m pretty sure that you will think this is such a good idea that you will immediately go and make one for yourself, as I did, so I will include the instructions. (Roman numerals. Oooh, fancy.) Yes, I thought so too.

I. Find an old but sturdy box, about the size of a shoebox. The uglier the better.

II. Find one or several pieces of glass, pottery, or china. This step is key. The bash box works best if said breakable item is the tackiest piece you own. Pick something that is so hideous it really should not exist on this earth.

III. Place indescribably-tacky item in ugly box.

IV. Cover box completely in heavy duty tape. Any kind of tape should work: packing tape, thick masking tape, pink duct-tape. This step is also key, as it could prevent shards of glass from finding their way into your little toe.

V. When angry, stressed, frustrated, overwhelmed, or feeling any other emotion that normally drives you to mangling bubble wrap, run to the Bash Box instead.

VI. Throw it on the floor. Smash it into a concrete wall. Drop it down a flight of stairs. Kick it across the room. Yell at it. You choose.

VII. Listen to the satisfying sounds of indescribably-tacky glass breaking. Aaaah.

No damage to valuable items or persons! No messy clean up! One less tacky item in the world! What’s not to love?

Warning: This part will be included when I patent my item as well.

Do not use around small children as it could encourage aggressive tendencies.
Do not place the picture of a person on the box.
Do not use the box as a weapon.
The Bash Box is intended to divert stress and anger from living beings—people, animals, or plants—so as not to cause physical, mental, or emotional harm. The suggester of Bash Boxes will not be held responsible for any damages occurring from the use or misuse of this item.

Another Random Comment

I am sitting here cringing, waiting for the response. I imagine two groups of people. Group A) “She is crazy. I am afraid.” Group B, with British accent) “Brilliant! Positively brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?” Applause. Rushing for the emergency psychiatric hotline. Save your time – I don’t think they pick people up in China. After all, I haven’t been committed yet. That tells you something.

Warning #2: Should you have to include two warnings in one blog entry? You know that all of this is tongue-in-cheek, right? Sarcastic girl – that’s me. I don’t really whine about my life all the time (People who know me: Yes you do). I’m not crazy. (People who know me: would be saying something right now but have already fallen out of chair laughing that I think I can get away with such a statement). Confession: I am crazy, and I want people to laugh at my crazy life. Even if it just laughing in relief that they suddenly seem so sane. Sigh. Anything for the sake of an audience.