Your stress ain't mine, keep it to yourself!

All too often I come across someone who has clearly had a bad day, bad night, bad ten minutes, or whatever.  Trust me, I get it.  We all have them.  Here's what we don't all have...license to take it out on someone else. People who are subject to dealing with the venom that stressed out folks spew should be allowed to punch the spewers in the jejunum, no questions asked. Now why on earth would I say that?  Let me share this with you.  Verbal daggers hurt just as much and leave unseen scar tissue that never heals. Therefore, when you have had a shitty night, keep it the fuck to yourself. This is not to say you shouldn't have someone you can vent your guts out to, or upon whose shoulder you can lean.  Chew your BFF's ear completely off if you must.  But goddamn it, don't bitch me out to help yourself feel better.

Some bitch incessantly making it difficult to determine whether it is due to an isolated incident that set them off, or if it is just part of their usual gripe-fest.  Somehow I know you work with someone like this, we all do.  There's nothing that makes this person happier than to yank on your ear for an endless amount of time, grousing about anything and everything. Every day it's something new.  Sometimes it might even be about you, but you won't hear it directly from them. For that, they need to whine to someone else.  I can't imagine going through life so fucking unhappy, yet I see it in others daily. These bellyaching jackasses go on and on, without even noticing that you've stopped listening and have resorted to nodding and saying "mmm" during their bitch breaks. I never said they were intelligent.

Some people get their panties in a wad over something legitimate but then can't pull them out of their asses fast enough to deal with the innocent public. They should just be shot on site.  The ability to shake it off is crucial and if you can't, steer clear of me.  I have little patience for those types. Having empathy for the trials and tribulations of others is one thing.  Subjecting yourself to verbal abuse because some schmuck can't separate you from the asshole that pissed them off, is ridiculous and unnecessary.  Unfortunately, when you work with someone like that, you are fucked.  There's really no escape and it's considered bad form to bitch slap them.  You are stuck and have no choice but to suffer through their nasty-assed bullshit.
Whether you work with or live with someone like this, you are doomed to walk on eggshells when you are in their presence. It is uncomfortable at best, and a fucking nightmare the rest of the time. Just because your life is a toilet, don't drag me down into your shit. I hate having to wonder what kind of day I'll have based upon the mystery of what type of night YOU had. Why should your bad decisions affect me?  Face it, that's what they are, right?  When your husband pisses you off and you go to bed angry without attempting to correct the situation, that's on you. You'll likely still be pissed the next morning and bring the anger with you to work along with your lunch. Seeing the pinched look on your face tells me all I need to know and makes me want to shove your lunch up your ass, to keep the stick buried there company.
When your kid acts like a total douche nozzle, that's all you, fucknod.  You raised the monster, you live with the consequences.  Your failure as a parent is not mine and I shouldn't have to be verbally skewered by you every time the reality of your parenting suckitude hits you like a fucking brick. Yet you do it, and without missing a beat or feeling an ounce of regret. Sometimes it feels like you are trying to inflict the missing discipline on me.  I am a grown ass woman and I do not need another mother or father at this point in my life. I am who I am without your asinine help, thank you very much. What the fuck is your deal? Give me your little Satan and I'll beat the good sense into them that you've neglected to do thus far. I'm not scared of them, and you shouldn't be either. You were brave enough to push an 8lb. human out of your vagina, be brave enough to stand up to the older, upright version.
Here's the main issue, and this is where you should be taking copious notes for future reference.  I am not a punching bag. My ears were not fixed upon my head to listen to you berate me for something I didn't do to you.  I was not put on this earth to stand in for the assholes in your life that you are too much of a pussy to deal with appropriately. As a semi-functioning adult, it is your job to fix your own problems and deal with the ones you can't. As your friend, coworker, or relative it is not mine to take shit from you on a regular basis because of your serious lack of mature coping skills. I can tell you what your fucking problems are if you'd like, but I still can't do anything about them.  That's all on you, and you cannot handle it. Which is why after ten minutes with you, I feel like I've had the living shit beaten out of me from the inside.
There's proper terminology for what you do to the people in your life.  It's called verbal and emotional abuse. Don't like the sound of that, do you? I'll even bet you are loudly and vehemently denying that you'd ever do such a thing to anyone. Being too busy playing the victim in your own drama, you've failed to notice your starring role in mine. When you talk down to me, or snap my fucking head off for no apparent reason because you feel overwhelmed by the life you've chosen, you are being abusive.  I will not sugar coat it or wrap it up in shiny paper for you.  You are an abusive cuntsicle and I refuse to be on the receiving end of your crap. The next time you feel like lashing out at someone, walk into the bathroom, take a good, hard look in the mirror, and bitch out the person staring back you. They are the ones to blame for your misery. If you think I'll tolerate another verbal whipping, you are sadly mistaken.  Are you friggin kidding me right now???