Hey, Don't Tase Me Bro...

All I want for my birthday is a taser. Is that really too much to ask for? I’ve been holding out for one for years. I’ll be 34 soon, and my favorite day of the year is my birthday (which is soon approaching, hint-hint, wink-wink, nudge-nudge). I even disguised my request to my husband inside another present, “Honey, this year – I really don’t want much. I love this choice one of a kind hand-made bag (read: snazzy purse that I found on sale for $60) with a taser inside.”

Not one to miss a beat, he responded, “That is a nice bag…you do realize you’ll probably just end up tasing yourself?” Is tasing even a word?

I know that you might be wondering what it is I plan on doing with my taser. To which my response would be: well, tasing everything, of course! I’ve imagined tasing myself [in case you’ve never read *that* email, it is HILARIOUS!]. I’ve fantasized tasing my husband in the face when he does things I don’t like. I’ve envisioned tasing my kids when they’re mouthy. I’ve visualized tasing my cats when they scratch my furniture. While all of those things could seem like worthwhile fun, they would be short-lived and minimally humorous. I do have to live with them all - like, well…all of the time. They might end up exponential retribution tasing me in my sleep. I’ve moved onto bigger & better plans!

I fancy becoming a vigilante, hunting out crimes & misdeeds in my quiet suburban neighborhood and tasing criminals and rascals alike. I like to have a couple of glasses of wine & feed the deer in my back yard our baby carrots. Yes, yes you hippies…I’ve even conceived tasing them. I’ve often wondered if tased rubber melts – as you can guess I’ve got plans to tase my Jeep tires [talking to myself like Tim Allen from Home Improvement – How rugged are you, tires?!? Hau Hau Hau].

I’ve plotted using my taser to properly cook Crème Brulee. Who wouldn’t want to have that for dessert?!? The list of random people I’d tase just because I could seems to grow on a daily basis: the mailman, asshats who drive double the speed limit down my road, that guy who almost broadsided me yesterday on my commute home…then had the nerve to give ME the finger when I beeped at him, small dogs and chickens (for some reason both of these creatures are creepy enough to me to warrant a rampant tasing).

I’ve envisioned greeting my friends in what I’ll dub my signature move. We meet up for lunch in some crowded venue…I tase them and holler, “How ARE you doing?!”

I’ve imagined tasing my brother for each of the times he’s called me fat throughout my life: I do also realize that part of this daydream finds me just excessively tasing him long past the point where he’s peed himself, started drooling & foaming at the mouth, seizing and has become irreversibly brain damaged…Don’t judge, this is deep rooted from years of verbal abuse.

But, mainly I wonder – who’s going to get me that taser this year? This year HAS to be my year! I can just feel it…