"I should invest in an anger management center. But it would probably go under. And that would piss me off."

Visit our house after the kids go to bed (or at least, go to their rooms under the auspices of going to bed) and you will see a transformation. Gone are the cheesy comments and passive aggressive remarks directing someone to the bath or away from a certain television show. Gone is any sense of decency and/or language barrier. And, further, gone is any good natured use of our Nintendo Wii.

Yes, after the kids go to bed, my husband and I are transformed into a couple of foul-mouthed sailors who roll around in their ship, looking for a foreign land (that I don't think we'll ever find) where we are completely relaxed, and well, like most other 25 year olds. We watch bad TV. We write on blogs. And we play video games. And for my husband, this means we curse. A lot.

My husband playing MarioKart is one of the more hilarious things you ever want to see. During the day, when he plays it with the kids, he is remarkably contained, winning races for my four year old and earning the moniker of "best buddy in da wuu-rr-ld." But at night, he is a MarioKart demon, attempting the hardest races, trying to set records and yelling nonsensical garbage, mostly directed at Princess Peach, who always seems to be doing something tantamount to ripping out his intestines through his big toe. I prefer to sit back and watch while he thrashes and nashes his teeth; to me, this is the kind of thing you just want to see, like a homeless guy admonishing tourists about the "overlords" in San Francisco or Britney Spears armed with an umbrella and a shaved head. He is delightfully angry, every bit of energy in his body combining for one sheer purpose: to be a MarioKart asshole.

And this, interestingly enough, is one of the bigger differences between us. I, reared as a sweet Southern girl, have really no tendency toward anger. I am remarkably mellow. As my boss puts it, "Morgan doesn't really let anything get to her." But it is more than that: I am mellow to the point that I don't think my body is physically capable of producing an angry reaction. When encountered with stuff that should make me boiling hot, I just bawl. And it isn't pretty. At those points, I wish for the day that I could just explode, unleashing a torrent of curses on the person who so wronged me. But I can't. And I don't.

Watching my husband play MarioKart has pushed me to realize that I am the emotional equivalent of one of those people who doesn't have a sense of pain. If you ever saw that Grey's Anatomy with Abigal Breslin where she gets socked in the stomach so much that she is bleeding internally, but can't feel it, then you know what I am talking about. Emotionally, I can stand myself at a stove, and put my hand right into the gas flame, and not have the wherewithall to pull it back because I don't feel the thing that is eating away my flesh. I just keep telling myself that it can get a little bit worse, that I don't need to pull away just yet. And sooner or later, I'll get to the point where I'm missing a hand. And I won't understand what happened to it.

This disturbs me. A lot. But to be frank, I don't really know what to do about it. I'm not posting this as some "Look at how I improved my life!" kinda bit. In fact, it is just the opposite. It is more like "Look at what I'm doing to lead myself into an early death!" or "Look at how much I suck." I also post this for the very sick reason of that I don't know if I'd really change this if I could. This inability to feel any sort of anger is an amazing coping tool--one that allows me to work crazy amounts of hours at work without feeling a whole lot and keeps me smiling in the face of those around me who are complete and total douches. But there is that whole possibility of going postal someday and offing everyone within a 10 mile radius.... so I guess it's not really that fair of a trade-off.

Anywhoodle, just putting that out there. This is truly the post about nothing, huh? Today's quote comes from my husband, who recognizes that his anger toward MarioKart probably needs some professional help.

"I should invest in an anger management center. But it would probably go under. And that would piss me off."