Did you ever just want to drop kick someone right into never-ever-don't bother me land?  I've often had those feelings. Shocker, I know. Even still, sometimes, I wish I had actually done it.  

A long, long time ago, my apparently sexually confounded boyfriend of almost 7 years decided to raise his hand to my face in a heated spat. At the point of impact or shortly prior to those biting stings, it probably would have been a really good time to unleash my high kick ability. Had this same scenario happened now, I could almost resolutely state that he'd be looking for the other half of his male member somewhere in the dirty, grimy Chicago sewer system--either by my doing or one of my trusted few. 

Obviously, when confronted with physical aggression, I like to respond with kind. Sometimes, though, the deeply penetrating injury isn't a bodily, physical one. Instead, it's often words or misdeeds and often committed by the ones that we call friends. Yes, it's the proverbial knife jammed deep into your back that leaves you recoiling as you tend to your wounds and wonder how the heck that knife ever got lodged into your body in the first place. It's these  same wounds that one really doesn't know how to reciprocate in kind or how to even begin to "get even."

Betrayal comes in many different forms. Take for example LeAnn Rimes. Now there's a backstabbing bimbo worthy of a drop kick straight onto a garbage pile. Somehow she decided that marital vows and that guy she called her "husband" wasn't worthy of her loyalty anymore and she proceeded to flagrantly engage in lots of dirty, nasty sexy time with an also then-married, Eddie Cibrian. As far as I'm concerned, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb deserve each other. As they celebrate their new marriage this past Good Friday (who gets married on Good Friday, anyway) I cannot help but to think that hey, past behavior is a good measure of future acts--good luck! I'm quite sure that the left-behind-jilted ex-spouses must still be reeling from betrayal and sharing similar evil sentiments for the miserable couple.

In the professional realm, think jobs, I'm sure there's lots of throwing people under the bus going on daily. In fact, I think I've seen tire tracks on the backs of some of my friends time and time again, especially during the multiple martini happy hours. One needn't look further than Charlie Sheen--most of his rants and raves tend to deal with his boss, Chuck Lorrie, and how he betrayed and back-stabbed him (Sheen) right out of a job. The bright side of the Sheen saga is that even though he's probably hurt on some level from the betrayal and he's out for warm Laurie revenge all while being under the influence of some tiger blood, he's nonetheless making bank from the situation and in that regard, I think he'll be fine.

But what about us little folk who won't make millions after being stabbed in the back? We very well can't just go postal on the offenders either, despite our strong desires for same. So maybe we just have to find a way to bite our tongues and sit on our hands. Easier said than done, I surmise. Maybe we all could find some healing balm in the inside of a nice bottle of Cabernet or some horse-sized tranquilizers the next time that machete gets thrust deep into our back.