Tell me about the last time you threw a temper tantrum.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Now, now…don’t be embarrassed. Even teens and adults can have/throw them at times.
Me, 2 years ago. I found out everyone in my family in Arizona was going to the Grand Canyon but me. When I found out, I started crying uncontrolablly, yelling, screaming, swearing, and just carrying on. I mean, I was really hurt. Not physically, but emotionally, cause it wasn’t the first time something like that happened. So I had had enough and I threw a medium sized temper tantrum right there.

What about you? Tell us a tale of your last/most recent one.
Throwng hissy fits and overly pouting over something count too.

2

A couple months ago I found out that the one girl I hate the most in the world had followed my boyfriend home and spent the night at his house. It got sorted out eventually (he doesn’t like her much more than I do) but needless to say there was much shouting and carrying-on between-times.

3

Last year, in a place called Albany in Western Australia.

I was with my cousin, who emigrated from Middlesbrough to Perth in 1990: we were having a bit of a tour of southern WA before heading for Busselton where his brother (i.e. also my cousin) was getting married. We’d arrived at about 6 o’clock in the afternoon after a long drive from Esperance and were in need of food and drink. After a wash and few beers, at about 9 o’clock we decided to return to a restaurant we’d spotted earlier which had a sign outside saying “open til late”. We eagerly went inside only to be told that they had already stopped serving! Apparently, “late” in those parts means 8 o’clock. We wandered around the town spotting several eating places but all were dark.

Eventually one cafe had its lights on but as I loomed at the door pointing at my watch in a questioning way, a waitress shook her head and indicated that they were shut. So, being absolutely starving by that point, my tamtrum erupted.

I wrenched off my jacket, flung it theatrically to the ground and went to jump up and down upon it. But at the last minute I jumped aside. The flash of temper had abated.

My cousin burst out laughing and so did I. Talking about it the next day we both dissolved into uncontrollable fits of laughter. 45 years old I was.

4

Picture it, February 1996, a furniture store where I had dropped almost six grand on furniture a month before that they were supposed to hold for me until I could move into my soon to be completed new home.

I move in the Friday before. The furniture company brings out the bedroom furniture but only one of the two sofas (and it was a sofa bed which I had not ordered). They also didn’t have the two recliners I had bought. I was tired, surrounded by piles of unpacked boxes, etc. so I didn’t say anything that day. The next day I call the store and ask about the rest of my furniture. I’m told they’ll deliver it on Monday, which was fine cause I was off work a couple of days to get the unpacking and all done. Monday comes. No furniture. Tuesday, I call. They’re coming that afternoon. Didn’t happen. Wednesday I go down there and ask what’s going on. They apologize and say the rest of the furniture will be there before five p.m. Didn’t happen. Swampy is pissed! I walk into the furniture store Thursday morning, obviously mad. A salesperson who I guess thought I was out of earshot turns to his fellow salesperson and says, “Uh oh! That’s the guy whose furniture we were supposed to hold but got sold.” I started throwing a fit! “You ‘effin’ sold my ‘effin’ furniture?! What do you mean you sold my 'effin furniture!? Where’s the 'effin manager! Get his 'effin ass out here and I mean now!” I proceeded to tear new assholes for the manager and the person who sold me the furniture. I would not shut up. Finally I got it all out. I screamed. I cussed. I jumped up and down. I left with two new (and better) sofas and two new (and better) chairs for which I didn’t pay a damn dime more. The furniture was there that afternoon.

Moral of the story: “Do not piss off a large gay man when it comes to his furniture.” :smiley:

5

Mine was about a week ago. I don’t normally whine and throw tantrums, but I’m pregnant* and know not what I do.

I had a craving for mac n’ cheese and the pot we have which is the perfect size for it was dirty. It didn’t matter that I dirtied it or that it was perfectly reasonable for it to be dirty. I wanted a clean pot!

So I started swearing, pouting, whining and generally acting like a 5 year old (well, a 5 year old who says “God damn” a lot).

The topper was that I said in a very whiny voice, “Honey, would you please wash this pot so I can make my mac n’ cheese?”

He washed the pot and I apologized, but damn, I annoyed myself. I can’t imagine what my husband thought about that pathetic display.

*Yes, I do seem to mention this in just about every post lately. Sorry.

6

Swampy, I can so relate to that. Mr. SCL and I had just moved back to the mainland from Hawaii, and were in need of living room furniture. We went to a store at the mall (that is no longer in business), picked out a couch and recliner, and opened a line of credit to pay for it. Delivery is scheduled for about 3 weeks later - a rather long time, but not really a problem.

A week before the furniture is due to arrive, Mr. SCL discovers he has misplaced the receipt we will need to get the delivery guys to take our furniture off of the truck. We head back to the store to get a duplicate receipt. The sales clerk in the furniture department looks in the computer and informs us that we are not on the delivery list and there is no record of our having purchased any furniture. To top it off, the set we had ordered was no longer being produced.

WTF?? We had already made a payment on it! I went ballistic. After a cool-off walk down the mall (rather like a throughbred, don’t you think?) I went back to the store and asked for a manager. Very nice lady, who could tell by the gleam in my eye I was ridin’ the ragged edge of disaster. We ended up with a much more expensive set at no additional charge and free delivery.

12 years later, the furniture is in the cat suite. They like it.

7

Just last month, I was preparing for a craft show, at which I planned on selling candles. I had been feverishly pouring candles for a month or more, in addition to several thousand other unrelated tasks that made this summer complete hell for me. The final candles were poured and set, and it was time to take them out of the molds, pack everything up, and put it in the car.

The candles had other ideas.

I spent a good hour attempting to get eight 9-inch pillar candles out of their aluminum molds. I froze them, I pushed from the little hole in the top, I pulled from the extra wick at the bottom, I ran them under hot water, I froze them some more, I banged them on things, I swore, I fumed, I fretted, and finally, I threw one right the hell across the room, slammed the freezer door shut, and announced that I was going into my bedroom to cry.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged, red-eyed but composed, and eventually coaxed all the candles out of their molds. One of the molds is still bent from where it hit the wall, though. :slight_smile:

8

Had the last tantrum about three weeks ago.

My boyfriend had left the week before on out-of-town business. He left me with our new cat. Miss Fritters is eleven months old and really a handful: jumps on counters and tables, meows loudly at all hours, bites me at every opportunity, jumps on my head. (Look, she’s cool, but more high maintenance than my only other cat.)

Anyhow, I was in the middle of hosting a weekend guest, trying to pack for vacation that Monday, making breakfast, and had just learned that the boyfriend might not be back in time to watch the cat while I was away.

Miss Fritters chose at that moment to jump up on the kitchen counter and go after *my * sausage!!

I went nuts and threw a full plate of scrambled eggs and sausage from the kitchen into the dining room. It missed the cat, but pretty much nailed my guest.

Luckily she’s a good friend and very forgiving.

The boyfriend is out of town again for a few weeks.

This time he took the cat with him.

9

A couple months ago my car insurance company withdrew 2 months worth of payments on the same day from my checking account. This cause my house payment check to bounce costing me and extra $225 in late fees and other assorted charges. When I found out why my check bounced, I called my insurance company and they admitted the error but told me it would take 60 days to refund my money. This was unacceptable to me and I raised holy hell with everyone I talked to. They finally hung up on me and my attempts to call again were not answered. I went to my insurance agent’s office and totally lost it in his office when he told me only the head office could authorize any refunds. I hollered, yelled, knocked over a couple chairs and scared the crap out of the poor guy. He got on the phone to his parent company but was apparently having the same success I had. He finally slammed down the phone, grabbed his office check book and cut me a check for the extra premium plus the other charges I incurred.

I sent him an email the next day apologizing for my actions. In his reply he said he has dealt with worse.

10

I pretty much shove my temper back down and walk away (sometimes a mistake, in retrospect) whenever this happens. But the last full-fledged temper tantrum I can remember is a fight with my parents–it’s always the way :rolleyes: :)–where I had a complete meltdown: screaming hysterically, crying, sobbing myself hoarse.

11

Other than the usual “grumble snarl is buggin me, feh, oh well” moments, the last real substantial full-scale themonuclear mental collapse I had was about 7 years or so ago, maybe 8, when my protospouse went home for the holidays. I couldn’t get vacation due to the “sensitive nature of my work” (only IS person for a 75-person office), and stayed home.

Over the course of her two weeks away, I developed an incredible case of insomnia, learned I was in fact able to take vacation but now couldn’t afford it, and I was utterly alone in a 2-bedroom apartment.

I became sullen, grouchy, irritable, and finally one night lost all my marbles, spent a few hours screaming at the top of my lungs, and finally collapsed naked in the hallway sobbing and bawling my eyes out and tearing a phone book apart page by page.

Felt a lot better the next day and proceded to clean every square inch of the apartment, and was MUCH happier when the protospouse returned. Once she was back with her snoring I was able to sleep normally again, too. Weird.

-PLD

12

December 18, 2000 (I may be off a year +/-)…I was making Lemon Merengue Pie for my father-in-law’s birthday party that night. It was not setting. I make several pies an none of them set. I was so frustrated at one point I slammed the pie plate down which then knocked over a bottle of wine, which crashed into my favorite Mary Engelbriet fruit bowl. It went flying, but in trying to catch it I actually ended up pushing it off the counter. It smashed onto the floor.

I was so angry I threw all the pies away. Then because I had broken something I loved, I took every last drinking glass from my kitchen cabinets put them into a bag and smashed them in the garage. I hated those glasses and if the beautiful bowl I loved was going to be broken beyond repair, I sure as hell wasn’t going to put up with ugly drinking glasses another minute.

When Suburban Plankton got home I sent him out to buy a cake and told him I would still go to the party, but if his mother said one word to me about it not being homemade pie she was going to hear it from me. When we got to the party, MIL starts to say something like, “I thought you were bringing…” SP interrupts her with, “Don’t even go there…” and all was well.

Plus, I got a whole new set of glasses, exactly what I wanted for Christmas.

13

Erm… you can’t look after this cat at home, so you made your boyfriend take it with him out of town on business!!!ONEONEONE

I’ll let you know when I get my head around this.

14

I work with someone who is very passive-agressive, expects the whole world to be at her beck-and-call, and who will do nothing for me. I have collected money for her, dealt with her tenants when they stopped me in the street, and come to the office four times because she forgot her keys and someone locked the door. Yet, she has refused to pick up a phone when all four lines were ringing (“That’s not my job”), and made me come downstairs to my desk because someone was there to pick up an envelope that was on my desk with said person’s name on it very clearly (Well, I didn’t know if it was okay).

A couple of weeks back, I was printing some things from the computer FOR HER, and the printer ran out of paper. She was standing between me and the computer paper, so I asked her “Please hand me some paper.” She looked and said “I don’t see any short paper.” JESUS, LADY, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS IN THOSE BIG STAPLES BOXES UNDER THE DESK? YOU JUST WON’T HELP ME WITH ANYTHING, WILL YOU? ARE YOU TOO GOOD, OR IS THAT JUST NOT YOUR JOB? I went on for 10 minutes, and she still didn’t hand me the paper. I had to get up and go around her (heaven forbid she should have to move) and get the paper myself to finish running off her stuff.

15

Yeah. He’s a great guy, I gotta tell you. He owns a couple of his own small businesses, so he can pretty much do what he wants in terms of bringing Miss Fritters along. When he goes out of town (Massachusetts usually), he stays in one of the houses he owns up there. He’s getting it ready to sell, which is why he’s been up there so frequently lately.

He understands that I’m not used to crazy cats everyhere. My former feline, Clawdia, was calm and sedate. I also have really, really bad cat allergies and asthma, and I’ve been using my inhaler many times a day when I’m in the cat’s presence. Feeling lousy makes it harder to chase her around the apartment and makes me way crabby besides.

I’m trying to decide whether or not to begin a getting allergy needles. I took needles for ten years, once a week, as a kid, and they worked quite well. My mother used to give them to me, but now I’ll actually have to go to a doc’s office here where I live once a week, and that’s kind of a pain. I do, however, in spite of it all, want to keep the cat. So we’ll see.

In the meantime, I appreciate him taking Miss Fritters off my hands as I can’t deal with a lot of stress. It’s easier when he’s home; he keeps her occupied while I empty the catbox and wash her dishes and feed her and vacuum up cat hair!! :smiley:

16

In 1992, I found out that my now ex-wife was screwing somebody else.

Suffice to say that 13 years later, I am still humiliated by my response. I have never, before or since, lost it as badly as I did. It’s a good thing she wasn’t in the house, because I probably would be posting this from prison if she had been.

17

Not reeeally a tantrum, but last weekend, when I had to do my art folio. It’s the stupidest thing ever. It’s useless. It’s time-consuming, pointless busywork. It’s 50% of my grade. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to. So I did it while home alone, screaming and swearing loudly. I wasn’t angry per se. I was working calmly and efficiently, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell from listening to me. What can I say? It made me feel better.

18

My last temper tantrum was actually at the DMV.

See, I got married. So I went down to the DMV the Tuesday after the wedding (during my honeymoon - but hey, it was a day I had off, and there is no way to schedule a day so that I can both go to work and go to the DMV). I carefully checked the available information about what is required to get a NYS driver’s license (as I had to not only change the name, but change from an Alaska DL to a NY DL). I also, just to be safe, called up the week before and asked what would be required.

So I wait in the tremendously long line for the best part of an hour, patiently reading my book. Waiting in good spirits. It’s tedious, but necessary, and also kind of exciting. My new name! Yay!

At long last I’m at the head of the line, and the clerk inspects all my documents and then goes away carrying my current, valid license. This is because the State of Alaska, instead of issuing new licenses when renewing, mails you a sticker which you then affix to the back of your old license, making your old license valid again (or still if you do this in a timely fashion). This whole concept baffles the DMV Lady so she gives me over to her supervisor. Her supervisor is the Archtypal Evil Civil Servant. She is snippy and bitchy and rude and accuses me of fraud and deception.

Nevermind that both the Federal and State governments accepted my license without comment when I passed the bar(s) and obtained my license to practice law. Nevermind that TSA’s the world over accept my license as valid (albeit usually after a short explanation of the whole sticker thing). Nevermind that the State of Alaska is perfectly content with the condition of my license (which I know because three months ago I was visiting my parents there and got pulled over, and no comment was made, except to note that my license would expire in another 9 months so I might want to consider renewing early).

I had a stressful month.

I lost it. In an epic fashion. I made supremely bitchy snarkily logical comments. I was icily nastily polite. I made implications that were so far beyond rude I shudder to contemplate them now. I refused to leave. I refused to move from my spot in line. I refused to come back another day. I demanded to speak with her supervisor. She denied having one. I insisted. I called the Governor of the State of Alaska and made him assure her my license was vaild.* I questioned her character, motivation and competance. She tried storming away, and I just harassed her underlings until one of them went and got her back for me. She threatened to call the police. I threatened to call the news. Eventually, we attracted the attention of another supervisor. Who took one look at my license, I explained about the sticker, he shrugged and took my picture and sent me over to the cashier.

In a movement I’m not proud of, I stuck my tongue out at the Evil Lady and said “I told you so, you stupid bitch.”

People applauded.

I paid my forty bucks and left in a fever of self-righteous triumph. I didn’t start feeling like an idiot for almost two hours :smack:

*Hey, it’s a small state. Not so many constituents. Not to mention my dad has a habit of calling up governmental officials and bullying his way up the ladder whenever he gets irked with something vaguely governmental in nature. He’s retired and occasionally crotchety - he’s got lots of time for this. At one point some idiot gave him the governor’s private number. I’m almost completely sure the governor only assured the lady my license was valid to avoid another phone call from my dad. They don’t like each other. Haven’t for over 40 years. My dad refers to the governer as “slimy cheating sonofabitch” and the governer refers to my dad as “one-eyed vindictive bastard”. To each other’s faces.

19

Is this “work with” or “work for”? 'Cuz if it’s “work with” I’d tell her to go take a hike next time she asked me to print something out for her. If it’s “work for” I’d start looking for a new job before this one drives you nuts.

20

You are my hero.