Let’s face it, I’m a jerk.

Recently one of my sweet cousins posted something on facebook about someone leaving her a mean note on her car. It made her sad, as it should when someone does something mean to you. And all her friends who commented said nice things to her, to make her feel better, and to point out how maybe the jerky person might have had something else going on to make them so mean.

This my dear friends weighed on my mind heavily. Not because I was sad for my sweet cousin, because she is so nice she probably did 17 nice things for other people and felt better pretty quick, but because it was likely someone like me that left the mean note.

I actually thought about her story more than I care to admit. I thought, wow, how many times have I wanted to leave a note like that! I mean I like to yell at other people while driving my car (with my windows rolled up of course) and write letters on my blog to people who are in my opinion most deserving of a chop. And then I thought, I should feel really really bad for being so mean.

But then it came to me. I feel almost zero remorse for being a jerk.

And then later, I still felt not bad about being a jerk. I wish I did, but really you wouldn’t like me half as much if I wasn’t. It’s all part of my charm, right?

I suppose all I’m really trying to say is I am glad there are sweet people like my cousin who balance the forces of people like me in the world. Heh.