So, any suggestions on what might make an applicable substitute?
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Written in the style of the children's story Goodnight Moon, and definitely one of the funniest things I've seen this year. I nearly ruptured something giggling at this!
Many thanks to my friend Diane for sharing it.
See, the sad thing is that I don't know that I've got one anymore - so there's nothing I can really defend, since I no longer smoke, I drink rarely, don't do drugs, and I'm not a whore.
There's always tea.
So, if that's my only vice, then I defend it by saying that a) it's delicious, b) it makes you feel good when you don't feel good, and c) it's got caffeine. Who can say no to caffeine?
Bell, you fucking bastards, you strike again.
While I appreciate the fact that not everyone is a banner-waving fan of warfare or the military, it makes no sense whatever that anyone would so defecate on the sentiments and efforts of others in such a mean fashion - unless they're a brainless twat, of course, without the maturity that Dawg gave a mollusk.
Exactly what is it, I wonder, that passes through the greymatter of a person who does something this disrespectfully stupid? ... especially when there was, apparently, not even any sort of protest involved, just some dumbass being a tool.
Regardless of one's personal feeling, there are those who chose to give their lives in defense of something they believed in, and there are those who believe strongly in celebrating those lives. If this is not your way,. that's perfectly fine, just leave the memorials of others alone.
I bet the flatulent arse who did this goes bowling with the ass who pissed all over my city's nativity Baby Jesus a couple of years back.
If I could sum up the entire situation with one word, that word would be pathetic.
For about two seconds I was impressed that Bell was finally going to jump on the iPhone bandwagon by offering the 3Gs model ... until I saw that, despite the near certainty that Bell's rate plans will be retardedly high.
Way to go with the going backwards, Bell. You do remember what innovation means ... right?
I can no longer afford the coffin nails for my loyalty to you - you require too many.
Language evolves, people evolve, and things that were once considered highly offensive are now commonplace. It's good, in a way, to see people not be quite so uptight about certain aspects of language; however, I don't know a single female who'd take being called a cunt without putting up a fight.
I don't know if it's a function of class alone - it seems more generational in a way - but when did something so crass become so 'normal', bland, unaffecting?
We've offered him advice, suggestions, help, every idea under the collective sun of his friends, and he takes none of it. He pays poor lip service to it. He sheds tears. He calls us arrogant. He says we are high-handed. He spends days at the job centre applying for stuff that never comes to fruition.
He keeps obsessing over the job he lost that landed him in the straits he is now in; even to the point of (several times) contacting the employer (at his home, no less) to beg for his job back, even after he took them to court and won $4000 worth of severance for the manner of his dismissal from that job. He's apparently made himself a joke at that place, and doesn't seem to realise it.
He is in no fashion proactive about improving his condition. He's had the chance to do so more than once, but never looks into certifications, never goes into any of the job programs offered by various sources, won't go back to school because he "doesn't want to be in debt". Well, hell, none of us do, but that's the continual price one pays to achieve something in life.
He seems to be of the frame of mind of someone who wishes to get as much as he possibly can, while putting in no effort, or as little effort as is humanly necessary. He thinks he's going to get a good paying job based on his work history alone. He has no papers, no post-secondary education, no apprenticeship, nothing. He won't even volunteer because, in his own words, "What fucking good will that do?" He is lazy, in the worst way.
How about the good of doing good, the good of learning new skills, the good of having something to talk about, or the good of looking like a viable prospect to an employer? He passes up low-wage jobs because he "won't have time to look for something better if [he does] that". Amazingly, others manage it.
We've lent him money, given him food and other things, taken him out for coffee and meals, but it's now to the point that even if it means he starves, we are all at various stages of not wanting to help anymore. It's sometimes like he uses further help as an excuse to spend that much more time not doing something about his situation.
I feel badly that my friend is sinking in this way, but there isn't more that I can do, or even much I want to do at this point. Help is getting to be like throwing it all into a black hole - it gets sucked in, not utilised.
Charity is ceasing to be charitable.
I cannot afford his friendship, in more ways than one.
He needs to do something. Now. On his own.
Say what you mean plainly and directly, don't talk to me like I'm two, and shut the fuck up.
There is never any need to shit on people in that PMSing kind of way - especially not if you're a man.
There is little that's worse than a bitchy man.
I bust my ass to do a good job. I succeed. I am quick and competent, although not always courteous. I find it not always an easy thing to accept the verbal abuse and threats of people who are trying to solicit assistance from me. My shortcomings aside, I still do a better job than others I share the workspace with. How it is that, by the numbers, they come off looking better than I am is beyond me. I spend night after night in there feeling like I'm picking up the slack left by the incompetence of others. Not only that, none of them, not a one, can be trusted in any way. I haven't not seen such pettiness in many a year. They would stab you in the back as soon as look at you. Neither the staff nor the management can be trusted. They are a population of rats.
I hadn't gone to work last night intending to do anything but my usual level best, but when the first call came in to my line, it hit me. I had A Plan. In no fashion was it professional, but it also suddenly occurred to me that I didn't give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut, and by the end of my shift I realised I had just had the most peaceful weekend shift I've ever had in that place. I had a breakthrough; a moment of enlightenment; an epiphany, if you will. I felt free.
Not that the situation is different at any other workplace, but I got suddenly tired of working my best and getting no recognition fot it, whilst people who should have got the sack long since remain employed - and sometimes even praised for barely existent abilities. Quality and decency are not rewarded; incopetence is overlooked; and, very poor lip service is paid to keeping a calm, competent, decently behaved workplace. The mistakes of those who deserve no such type of attack are pounced upon like vultures at a corpse, while gross indulgence is given to those who deserve far more censure than they ever see.
I am done with it. I shall do my job, but no more. I will certainly not extend myself past what is necessary. Since it appears that nothing one does leads to actual dismissal, I don't suppose that much will come of it, but who knows?
Here's to a new job that pays more for work that doesn't involve daily abuse from people I'll never meet, because I sure as fuck don't get paid enough at this place to put up with the garbage I do.
If I were a lesbian I am quite certain that I would find the short skirts coming out of the bar just as stimulating as you did. However, might I suggest that the next time you want to treat your body like an amusement park, you not remain in front of the bar while you're doing so - especially not while the undercover cops are on the prowl.
Mm'kay?
They had to douse the place again with their industrial strength Die You Filthy Insect Bastard, but if it helps, who am I to complain?
The books I didn't toss in the Great Purge of '09, have no place to live because I had to toss the shelf they were squatting, so they now reside (temporarily) on my dining room table. My hope is that the bug master thoroughly enjoyed the soft core porn that was sitting right on top of the pile; namely, Erica Jong's Fear of Flying.
So glad to know that your ability to warble like a Chinese opera reject is fully intact, but given that everyone else in the office is listening to the classic rock radio station, it'd be kinda nice if you'd shut the fuck up and stop singing along to your walkman.
kthnxbye
It ended up with my having to throw out my bed, box spring, mattress, futon mattress, two dressers, a lot of personal items, books (which they made me remove because they're a "fire hazard" and he threatened me with the bylaw officers if I didn't remove them - and he wonders why no one wants to come to him with their home issues), and they ripped out my carpet (which by all rights should have been taken out before I even moved in here - so good riddance). Since my desk was falling apart, I took the opportunity to get rid of that too. I therefore had nowhere to sleep or work, so have been staying at my grandmother's (with no Internet access except via my cellphone), and no real way (or desire) to explain to anyone what the hell's been going on.
Then, he tells me that the second spraying (apparently it's common to spray for them two or three times) would be done Tuesday at 2 p.m. So on Monday I go out to run some errands, and come back to find that they sprayed while I was out. I can't sit here getting gassed by bug spray (no desire to relive Naked Lunch in any fashion), which meant another few days out of here because while it might be safe, I don't like the smell. I have to wait longer for the odour to dissipate. It also meant I missed a rather important teleconference.
They are not compensating me for anything I had to throw out, nor was I offered any sort of discount on my rent.
Now that I've explained it, I hope everyone will forgive my lack of response on matters both casual and promised. Hopefully I will have this place into some semblance of workable order within a few days. Still nowhere to sleep, but I had bought a cheap desk just before disaster struck, so I can get that together fairly soon.
Now I get to wait for them to yet again put me out of my home for a few days while they redo the floors. Whoopee. I am an Olympic-sized pool of distance away from caring about a hardwood floor remodel. I want my fucking home back, and a place to sleep. My grandmother's couch just doesn't quite do it for me.
I did not, you may imagine, have the most stellar of birthdays. I thank everyone for their wishes though. It was good to see something nice in the midst of this disaster.
What I thought was going to be only a few days here has turned into weeks, but these should be over at the end of this one. I hope.
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The Rolaids/Tums crowd need not apply. You've already been suggested. :>
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages or comments you and asks. -- and believe me, the temptation to explain some of these will be overwhelming nothing is exactly as it seems.
3. Now, here's what you're supposed to do. . . Copy and paste this into your notes, delete my answers, type in your answers and tag as many of your friends as you'd like to.
( Read more... )
This rice (yes there's rice under there) and dead cow concoction seemed to me to about as appetising to look at as Don Gately's hour-long boiled hotdogs must have been to injest. I need to find a way to make a nice pun or joke about that word in regards to the book's title. It's there; I can smell it - unlike Gately's meatloaf, thankfully. The description of Gately's earnestness regarding how the Ennet inmates would accept his cooking made me smile.
I think DG's turning out to be my favourite character.
I am now caught up and then some - to the August 17th milestone, in fact.
"The pinkification of writing is the enemy of the Enlightenment! Death to these spurious pink pens of chintzy cute capitalism! Let our writing implements speak the truth of our mendacity in colours that would upset small children."
Think anti-pink! Could not have put it better had I tried.
I am thinking of the first musical number of Funny Face, now.
At times like this I consider those moments I wish I were a little better looking, a little thinner, and realise that it might be better that I am not.
And I realise why it is that Joelle wears a veil. It's not just so her prettiness will stop putting people off, it's so she can acquire some sort of equality, anonymity, facelessness in a world that fixated on her face. And, perhaps, to get a moment's unviolated peace.
- - -
(1) Imagine, if you will, a park full of drunken bingo hall trailer-trash, muddied, sleep-deprived, hungover, smelling like a sweaty tent flap. If you're Australian, imagine some much more low-brow bogans.
(2) And the moment of sympathy I felt for this girl just died in the wake of her commentary on regretting not having married someone years ago, because now she'd be living in some mansion in Italy if she had. Although, I suppose there's something to be said for being that open and upfront about her material wants. Way to not be shy, I guess.
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