Los Angeles, CA
My old man was a pretty good basketball player for his time (the early 1950s) and the part of the genes that he passed on was a deadly jump shot. I got the long-range shooting genes, which helped me hold my own in pick-up games on gritty NYC playgrounds and earned me a spot on my varsity hoops team. On the bad end of the gene pool, I inherited my father's Irish temper.
Most of the time I have my temper under wraps. It flares up every once in a while, but I quickly seize control and don't let it fester because I've gotten better about shrugging off the small stuff, and shinning on the matters that I cannot control. However, my downfall is the big stuff is what gets me into trouble. Just ask the flimsy Ikea chair that used to be in my office. In a fit of unexpected rage, I hurled it against a wall. The wall is perfectly fine -- not a single dent or scratch, but the chair is a whole different matter. I could blame Ikea for constructing furniture made out of balsa wood, but it's easier to put blame onto a greedy corporation. In the end, I have to accept responsibility for for the destruction of my own property. Then again, if I acquired the chair from a furniture company that did not specialize in disposable items, we wouldn't be having this discussion.
Yes, the chair is toast. The Swedes don't make chairs strong enough to with hold my temper. Next time, I have to buy a stronger chair, or buy two cheap ones -- just in case I get sent on mega-tilt again because I'll have a backup.