Bet Your Bottom Dollar

I have never been an optimist.
A "world-class bitcher" were an ex-boyfriend's exact words. If you want a peppy, look on the bright side, the sun will come out tomorrow, insert the obvious non-profound statement here, I'm not your gal.
There is a comfort in sarcasm and dark humor for me. A witty quip at the expense of my problem is like a cozy fire coupled with a great glass of wine. My cynicism at less than desirable situations is far more entertaining than your "maybe God has a different plan" talk.
Of course God's plans are different than mine!
Of course I'm being selfish!
Of course these tears and the stomping of these feet aren't going to accomplish a damn thing!
Bitching about a situation doesn't accomplish anything, I don't wallow or get stuck for very long, but sometimes it's just the only thing that feels right. It's my process, don't take it personally if I'm irritated when you pull out a cliche that I know is true.
So when I go to wash my make-up off, but my tears have already done that job too well; I can run the water anyway and wash this shit-hole of a day down the drain because guess what?? Tomorrow is a new effin' day.