Huffy Flounce

He eats food right off the floor!!

Mal Shot First wrote:

Holy shit-fuck. In one move and one e-mail (at 21:57 on a Friday night) my boss, a Board member of a FTSE 100 company, has totally undermined an RFP I have been running. And deliberately, I think, too.

Monday will be interesting. Seething right now.

BARBARIC!

How very dare they!!

Current Annoyance
I think I'm slowly being driven insane by this pastor's writing. He makes the weirdest fucking adjective, verb, and preposition choices. He has no grasp of punctuation. He uses semicolons like he bought them all in bulk and is having trouble unburdening himself of them.

He's constantly appealing to KJV phrasing. He comes off like a guy who learned to read using the KJV, never read anything *but* the KJV, and never really had a formal education.

I know. It sounds like it would be cool. It sounds like the guy would write like an Elizabethan playwright. Unfortunately, that's not the case. The writing's really bad. Imagine a guy who had never picked up a paintbrush in his life. He goes to an art museum, sees some examples of cubism, says, "I could do that!" and goes out and buys some brushes, paints, and canvases. Now imagine he's also fairly uncoordinated and maybe even a little slow. He has no knowledge of the masters. He has no knowledge of the basics. He...

All right. That wasn't really going anywhere. The guy's just bad. The stuff reads like it was written to be read at story time to a bunch of preschoolers, but it also has a bunch of (not necessarily properly used) KJV Bible paraphrases sprinkled throughout.

Thing is, the guy claims to have earned two doctorates. Divinity-specific doctorates, but still. Goddamn.

The guy's essentially Emanuel Quint from The Fool in Christ, Emanuel Quint. He's Chance Gardener from Being There. No. I've gone too far.

Editing this guy's sentences is like trying to untangle fishing line. You barely know where to start. You end up having to rewrite the whole thing.

His scholarship is pretty poor, to boot. He's constantly making false, shaky, and half-informed claims. He keeps misspelling people's names, too. It goes beyond spelling "Pilate" in such a way as to suggest the man knew something about aviation.

When he makes my edits, he often adds in new mistakes. It's pretty frustrating.

For the Rick and Morty fans out there:

When I edit this guy's stuff, I wind up feeling like a Mr. Meeseeks. I feel, specifically, like the first Mr. Meeseeks who tried to help Jerry with his golf swing.

Hotel wi-fi.

Fear The Walking Dead will only be shown on a channel package available on BT TV, not Sky. Bugger!

I've heard it's not that great. Worse annoyance!

I have a Current Annoyance that involves a birthday cake, but I don't know if I have the energy to write it. I'm also fairly certain that Jubbers is more annoyed by the situation than I am, so maybe she should write it.

I don't mean it to sound like I'm not that annoyed by it. I'm pretty annoyed.

I swear I didn't eat it!

I have more energy this morning. Here's the story:

Jubbers made a cake for Jubboiter's birthday. She made it completely free of dairy so that she, too, would be able to eat it.

Jubboiter's birthday is September 8. Mine is September 6. We decided to throw Jubboiter a birthday party on my birthday, since my birthday was on the weekend. We did this so Jubbers's family could attend the party.

My grandmother thought it was a shame that I didn't get a cake on my birthday. She insists that I've never not had a cake on my birthday. This is just plain untrue, but she seems to believe it. She told me she was depositing twenty-five dollars in my bank account so I could go buy a belated birthday cake for myself.

Twenty-five bucks seems like way too much to pay for a birthday cake, but I guess my grandmother has gotten used to buying birthday cakes from Albertville Home Bakery. They're pretty close to our hometown. The cakes aren't great, but my family is a family of tradition. They're pretty fancy cakes. They're also pretty pricey. Twenty-five bucks pricey, it turns out.

I was just going to use the money however I wanted and say I bought a cake with it, but my grandmother called me again after she deposited the money and told me that my "aunt" really wanted to see a picture of the cake. My "aunt" also apparently wanted me to write my name on it/personalize it.

Ugh. It felt like getting a homework assignment. Big fuckin' hassle. Go out. Get a cake I don't really want. Try to find something somewhat cheap so I have some cash left over. Fucking decorate it. Take a picture of it.

It was clearly just my grandmother trying to get proof I'd spent the money the way she wanted me to spend it. (She has this idea that I spend all the money I get on Jubboiter. This isn't true, and I don't know where she got the idea. I do spend the majority of the money I make on food, I guess, and I'm usually buying Jubboiter food when I buy myself food, but I also buy myself the occasional book.) She does shit like this. I seriously considered PhotoShopping some shit.

Of course, Jubbers wasn't going to be able to eat pretty much any of the cakes I bought, thanks to the strong presence of dairy in the average cake. This leaves a whole cake to Jubboiter and me. That's a lotta eatin'.

My grandmother constantly harps on me about my weight. She used to harp on Jubboiter, too, even though Jubboiter's never had more than the usual baby fat. Now my grandmother wants the two of us to eat a cake that was meant for more than two.

I grant that it's pretty shitty of me, as a first-worlder, to bitch about having been given money. It's also pretty shitty of me to bitch about a loved one doing me a kindness.

It's just that there's always strings attached with my grandmother, and every "kindness" of hers seems somehow to be politically motivated. She's offended Jubbers once again. So many of the kindnesses my grandmother does seem to exclude Jubbers in some way.

I imagine sometimes she imagines me as this money-hording, male-pants-wearing bitch-demon who maniacly laughs while keeping you chained up in the dairy-free house dungeon.

Which is true, but none of her business.

Photoshop that fucking cake and damn her elderly eyes!

Too late. He bought a log-shaped ice cream cake last night.

Ice cream log you say? Well, that's different......

Constipation. This is what happens when I stop drinking for a few days...

This is what happens, Larry. This what happens when you FUCK a stranger in the ASS.

Well, I think I would have remembered such an encounter.

I did, however, once find a stranger in the alps.

Have you considered maybe not drinking quite so much?

Regular bowel movements are too important to me.