Quotes About Frustration

I seethe at the humiliation of airport security checks.

I've been playing golf for a little while and I can't get over the 85 hump. It doesn't matter how good or bad I shoot on one side, I'm going to end up around 85.

I'm a 14 handicap. Anyone who golfs knows what that means. I shoot 90 to a hundred or, once in a while, 85.

I haven't gotten hundreds of jobs that I've auditioned for.

I've tried to apply for jobs and I've been hung up on because of how I speak.

A hungry man is an angry one.

Everyone knows that I'm not very nice when I'm hungry.

It's impossible not to laugh when codes are jammed up.

There are few phrases that annoy me more than I won't bite. The only line that pisses me off faster is when some drunk, ham-faced dude in a bar sees me trying to get past him and barks: Smile,it can't be that bad! Yeah, actually, it can, jackwad.

In truth, I wanted her to read my mind so I didn't have to stoop to the womanly art of articulation.

I'm tired of dying.

Because I realized I'd be stuck doing all the hard stuff, she reasoned. All the diapers and doctors' appointments and discipline, and you'd just breeze in and be Fun Daddy. I'd do all the work to make them good people, and you'd undo it anyway, and they'd love you and hate me.

The phrase fuck you may not rest on the tip of my tongue, but it's near. Midtongue.

But I was born bent out of shape. I could picture myself coming out of the womb crooked and wrong. It never takes much for me to lose patience. The phrase fuck you may not rest on the tip of my tongue, but it's near. Midtongue.

When we got home, she'd trail off to her room like an unfinished sentence, and I would sit outside with my face pressed against her door and replay the day in my head, searching for clues to what I'd done to displease her.

I suppose it's not a compromise if only one of you considers it such, but that was what our compromises tended to look like. One of us was always angry.

I remember at one point starting a goofy story about a childhood field trip here, and I saw her eyes go blank, and I got secretly furious, spent ten minutes just winding myself up – because at this point of our marriage, I was so used to being angry with her, it felt almost enjoyable, like gnawing on a cuticle: You know you should stop, that it doesn't really feel as good as you think, but you can't quit grinding away.

That's the way plants down here work: The Mexicans get the shittiest, most dangerous jobs, and the whites still complain.

It never takes much for me to lose patience. The phrase 'fuck you' may not rest on the tip of my tongue, but it's near. Midtongue.

That's what I did, though—I had angry, defensive conversations in my head, got mad at things that hadn't even happened yet. Yet.

Those words had been the bane of my childhood, a constant reminder that nothing turned out right, not just for me but for anyone, and that's why someone had invented a saying like that. So we'd all know that we'd never have what we needed.

I rolled my eyes and set my head in my hands, as if it was too much for me, and it almost was.

This is the hardest part: waiting for stupid people to figure things out.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou, I chanted