On occasion (ok, maybe daily...or even hourly), I have been known to suffer from low blood sugar. When my blood sugar dips too low, I swiftly turn into a combination of Joan-Collins-as-Alexis-Carrington and that possessed, bile spewing girl from "The Exorcist".
I don't mean to, it just happens.
Tonight, during a phone conversation with my friend Rob, while I was feeling particularly low, food-wise, I hissed this through clenched teeth:
"Don't make me crawl through this phone and punch you in the fucking face."
The reason for said outlandish outburst: Rob was taking too long (too long being 60 seconds) in deciding where to have dinner.