I think I’ve pissed someone off. Not in a jumped ahead of you in the line for the bus, cut you off on the 401, “Sorry was that YOUR vintage bottle of wine in the fridge?” kind of way. This is much, much bigger. Think an entire round of Categories revolving around “Things you hate about ____” big. I’ve heard you know you’ve made it when someone hates you. In that case, forget made, I wrote, directed and starred in ‘it’.

Had you caught me a few years ago (and by a few I mean over three), I would have echoed Billy Zane when he pompously announced “a real man makes his own luck” before leaping into a life boat. Or in my case, before jumping into my parents’ car, blaring the Black Album and jumping out 2 blocks later when I reached my high school. But such is the arrogance and naïveté of a twelfth grader. Throw Tylenol 3-level family tragedy, nausea-inducing heart break and a Sunday afternoon of drinking’s worth of friendship turmoil into the mix and you’d have anyone wondering wherein the rub lies. But from watching my and others’ lives open before my eyes, I have noted that while bad things can in fact happen in threes, it’s more common for them to pop up intermittently amongst the good, the great, and the grand. That’s life, you say. Well yes, but sometimes, if you dare to pry below the surface of life, things may actually begin to add up. Not all at once, of course, because what would life be if not filled with hour-long conversations wedged into oversized armchairs at Starbucks, contemplating why this went wrong or that didn’t work out? But on those days when absolutely nothing goes right, poke about your consciousness and recall the last selfish, completely self-absorbed thing you did. Then question whether your being stranded up shit creek is related. Chances are it could be. It’s called karma and like water, will always level out in the end. Toy with someone’s emotions for months? Prepare to have your heart stepped on. Steal someone’s wallet at the gym? Just wait for when your jacket disappears from the bar. Try to seduce another girl’s boyfriend? Don’t look surprised when yours begins to stray. Call me Mel Gibson and put me in Conspiracy Theory 2 but it’s like your mother always said: treat others as you wish to be treated (add a thy and a neighbour and what a coincidence- Jesus said it too!)

I started this article by saying how someone somewhere must really have it in for me. And by someone somewhere I mean toned twat that ‘works’ the counter at the gym, which has incidentally taken my life hostage. If there’s any way to measure if someone hates you, it’s being thrown (thrown, signing a contract…it’s all the same) into a legal debacle that has you paying $2000 for personal training sessions because of a series of things I call “10 day cancellation policy” “why wont you return my calls?!?” and a stocky neck-less vest-adorned “kinesiologist” named Lou. Moral of the story: Be damn sure a Jessica Alba-shaped ass is worth $85 every 2 weeks forever and forever (in real time: twelve months) before you sign the ominously thick solid black line. Along similar lines of simultaneous tear and rage inducing circumstances, if you choose to believe a guy when he says he really likes you, it’s best to adopt a ‘jerk before proven genuine’ policy as all princes seem to be reverting back to frog status these days. Or maybe this is payback for leaving the iguana’s cage open and lying about it all those years ago…

*stolen from the Internet, author unknown. Probably some wise philosopher who never read her sister’s diary.