"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.." ---Matchbox 20 "Unwell"



Aug 29, 2003



She didn’t know what was going on with this guy, her old man, her husband….he didn’t like anything she did, didn’t agree with anything she brought up in conversation and did all he could to demean her intelligence and personal projects. In other words, this guy was a DIVA, the epitome of the word! Put a halter dress on him and a pair of high heels and Wheeeeeeeeee!! Snap! Snap! Snap! He’s ready for Carytown, girls!!! And them hormones are "kicking in!"

Well, her old man, whom we will refer to as "Nancy," just couldn’t stand a winner. She was a winner, alright, an authority in her field and about as happy-go-lucky as any Type-A could be until he entered her life. Bummerrrrrrrrrrr! Her happiness, her small successes made him feel inadequate. Whenever that feeling crept over him, he’d do anything to steal her joy…or try, anyway to upset her apple cart.

Most the time, she ignored the Diva and went on about her business. You know how those Type-As are…don’t have time for things and people who slow them down. And that, my friends, was what Nancy failed to understand. Wifey didn’t give too much thought and attention to his negativity, but she failed to see he was the "Jessica James" of her railroad company. Nancy didn’t tote a six gun; however, he wore a mask…behind his smile and words of encouragement lay resentment and schemes manipulating events to "get even" with the bitch for just being herself. In an effort to halt the train, he’d secretly empty the coal bin. Oh, Nancy thought he was slick!! UhnnnnHuhhhhhh…but Wifey was smarter, not slick, and always had backup plans. If plan A didn’t work, well hell, let’s try plan B. If plan B didn’t work, she’d continue to run through the alphabet of plans until something did!

Her life was based on optimism and a can-do attitude, the fuel that ran the Wifey Train. No matter how many times Wifey came flying through his world with new ideas, interesting successes and wonderful advancements for the both of them, why ole Nancy would just kick out his foot and trip her up….Lord, he tried…he was the "Master of Derailment." When the Wifey Train rushed by, sometimes he’d throw both them feet out in front of her; sometimes she’d fall flat on her face and a lot of the times she’d jump the hurdle and roll on. Occasionally, the Wifey Train left the station without Nancy, because Nancy was just too temperamental to get on board. He was left at the station sadly watching as the Wifey Train grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Too sullen to wave good-by, he schlepped off to his lair and devised new and interesting ways to waylay that train.

It took 7 years for "Ms. Passive-Aggressive Nancy" to finally irritate Wifey enough she’d give him a new vocation...Ho-Bo Extraordinaire! Nancy'd been there before when his first wife kicked him off her train. In a former life with a former spouse, Nancy had honed his personality disorder into a masterful skill, a talent employing secret loathing and sabotage to make himself feel like….like….like what?? What does a Passive-Aggressive want to feel like?? Does Nancy want to feel in control, autonomous, socially accepted…who knows?

Take this to heart…if you got a Nancy, do as Wifey did…punch Nancy’s ticket and put him on the first Wifey Train out of town and out of your life. You’ll be glad you did!

Toot! Toot! Chugga, Chugga!