It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to...

...or if mean people call me and yell at me. It should be against the law to yell at people on their birthdays. Really. Making people cry on their very special day is so wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Don't get me wrong. People have yelled at me before. But this was different. She was different. And it's my birthday.

A mean, nasty lady yelled at me. She is a nasty person. The kind that blames the world for everything wrong in her life. The kind that takes and takes and takes and then wonders - strike that, is furious - when people tell her to go away. This time she took it out on me. She called me this afternoon, furious, accusing me of things I said, confidences I betrayed. I quickly raced back in mind to what I had said and I knew what she was saying wasn't true. But it didn't matter. She was (is) mad. She is hurt. She feels that I betrayed her. I didn't know what else to say besides that I was sorry, that she misunderstood, that she acted in a way that made everyone think she didn't want to be a part of this.

The whole time she was yelling, I wanted to vomit. She made me feel horrible. She accused me of betraying confidences. I never do that. I'm not the kind of person to do that. She kept yelling and yelling, and I could feel the tears burning in the back of my eyes. I took a deep breath and swallowed. I tried to keep it together.

I think she wanted me to be confrontational. To argue. To yell. I just flat out refused to engage. I apologize for something I know I didn't do. I said I understood why she was upset. I said I didn't intend to hurt her feelings. The whole time I kept my voice low, deliberate. (In my head I was screaming at her, "it's my effin birthday. I don't need this today! Eff off!") My voice didn't waver. She was slightly confused by this approach. I don't think she gets that very often. She hung up after a very terse 'bye.

I did what any self-respecting, aspiring superhero, bohemian-at-large, small business owner would do. Hung up the phone and cried. I've been crying since she called. I called my best friend. She told me I did nothing wrong. This was a mean lady. I called another friend who also talked to her and got the yelling, he told me I did nothing of the sort, that she's a mean lady. I called hubby. He told me the same thing, she's a mean lady. He even offered to call and yell back at her. It still didn't stop the crying. Once the tears come, there's no stopping them.

Hubby came home with a pretty cake and decorations. Soon we'll go out to a fun dinner. I'll order a froo-froo drink with an paper umbrella and a pineapple on it. The hound dawgs will still love me. Their white-tipped tails will wag when I come home. Pink tongues will lick my face and wet, black noses will suction themselves to my pant leg to figure out where I've been. I'll wake up tomorrow knowing that I'm a good person.

But she, well, she will still be a mean lady.