A Misdemeanor That I Highly Recommend.
It involves rejection and donuts.
I recently had a professional setback, a rejection that hurt more than most. The stakes had been higher this time, so the ultimate “we’re going to pass but good luck” sucked harder than any rejection has sucked for me thus far in my writing journey.
But I’m over it. Really. No, I’m not crying, you assface; haven’t you ever seen someone with clinically-dry eyes before? Step off, jackwad, and mind your own business!
Ahem. Can you believe that guy? Like I’d still be misty about that. Come on. Anyhoo, what was I saying?
Oh, yeah — my soul-crushing rejection that I’m totally fine with now. Seriously.
On my way home that day, the day I now refer to as Day of the Dream-Stomp, I grabbed a bag of donuts at the gas station. Not real donuts, mind you, but donettes, the tiny chocolate waxy wheels that most intelligent adults have forsaken but I still consume on the regular. I was in a who-cares-about-anything-whatever-everything-sucks-gawwwwd mood, so I took a big ol’ bite of a donette while I drove and angry-chewed like a feral beaver.
Only for once, the donette didn’t assuage my bad feelings. For once, the waxed choco-flavor felt less-than-delicious in my mouth.
“Ughck,” I grunted through a mouthful of donut, rolling down my window and chucking the other half out the opening.
Perhaps the birds and rabbits would enjoy my special offering. You’re frigging welcome, nature; please enjoy this potpourri of preservatives, trans fats and processed sugars.
I glanced in my rearview mirror and wondered what the car behind me thought. Had they seen my donut take flight? Were they freaking out about the moron in the white car who appeared to be throwing things out the window? Relax, chumps — it’s bio-degradable.
For some reason, that notion made me smile and grab another donut. I relished the thought of their judgment; bring it on, you tailgating jags.
I cranked the volume on my stereo, drew back my arm and let that faux-pastry fly.
My smile morphed into a chuckle. I gritted my teeth and hurled another one, out the passenger window this time, going for distance and cackling when it sailed over someone’s backyard fence.
After that, I pretty much just aimed for speed limit signs and mailboxes. My aim sucked as badly as that rejection I no longer cared about, but it still felt good. I was out of donuts by the time I got home, but littering my commute with 16–24 tiny chocolate wax donuts had healed something inside me.
Clearly, I’m not a therapist.
Clear-freaking-ly.
But if launching donuts from behind the wheel made me feel that much better, I think I’m obligated to share this little nugget of self-care.
So come on, everyone. If you’re feeling rejected or disappointed, grab something edible, get behind the wheel and start flinging food out the window like a food-flinging beast.
Frisbee-toss some bread slices, lob a couple of raw cod filets, and pitch some meatballs like you’re a major leaguer. Get after it, You, and make yourself feel oh, so much better.
What could it possibly hurt?*
*Disclaimer: It could hurt you, other drivers, pedestrians and water fowl. Don’t throw food at other vehicles. Don’t throw food while driving even though this article is about throwing food while driving. Don’t throw food at water fowl or old people. Young people are okay because they’re resilient, but maybe don’t throw food at babies and toddlers, because they are less resilient. Technically this is littering and a ticketable offense, so also don’t get caught. If you do get caught, I never suggested throwing food out of a moving car; that is totally on you, bro.
