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First Dose: The US Administration, for having the gall, the flat hubris, to suggest that the judge who told them that they're breaking the fucking law by spying on American citizens is in the wrong. You're egregious, law-breaking assholes of the first order, and you've been called on it. Shut The Fuck Up, and knock it the fuck off.
Second Dose: Hezbollah, their backers in Syria & Iran, and a special pink and yellow corollary to the French & Lebansese governments, for twisting public perception and being manipulative dipshits (remember, five weeks ago, when Hezbollah started the whole thing by abducting Israelis?). Nobody's saying anything about disarming those terrorist militant fucksticks (note: I could argue that they're -my- militant terrorist fucksticks, but it's this sort of shit that conveniently and comprehensively quashes any hint of pride in my Lebanese heritage, even if it does inform my (well-hidden) temper and propensity for solving thorny political issues with large quantities of high explosives)... Why is that? Gee, let's hamstring the good guys and let the assholes run free. Again. Sil speaks to this well in a F-Locked entry yesterday, which is also posted to her Myspace. Go. Read.
Third Dose: The management trainer who infested my office this week. At one point, I asked her (politely, even) to turn down the music, and she made several snotty asides about it later in the day.
O FUCKING RLY?
She is cordially invited to a complimentary venti, half-caf, soy-infused, quad-shot cup of Shut The Fuck Up. I'm up here trying to get my fucking job done, and the fact that I can barely hear the person I'm trying to help over the ruckus wafting over the railing isn't making that any easier. Had I not been so goddamned busy, I'd have started contributing to the class in my own inimitable fashion, by interjecting off-color but appropriate asides.
For instance, the "how to put on a jacket" exercise could be done in one step:
"From looking at you, I can see that already know how to put on a (fugly) shirt. This is the same thing, just warmer. If you haven't figured out how to dress yourself by the north side of forty, you really need to have a talk with your parents."
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This bucket of blah blah bitchycakes is courtesy of the fact that, since 10pm Wednesday, I have honestly done nothing but work, commute, and sleep. 11 hours at the office yesterday, with 15 minutes for lunch. Yeah, I'm a big bucket of fun to be around. Hopefully I can take it out on either digital minions or a softball this evening.
Second Dose: Hezbollah, their backers in Syria & Iran, and a special pink and yellow corollary to the French & Lebansese governments, for twisting public perception and being manipulative dipshits (remember, five weeks ago, when Hezbollah started the whole thing by abducting Israelis?). Nobody's saying anything about disarming those terrorist militant fucksticks (note: I could argue that they're -my- militant terrorist fucksticks, but it's this sort of shit that conveniently and comprehensively quashes any hint of pride in my Lebanese heritage, even if it does inform my (well-hidden) temper and propensity for solving thorny political issues with large quantities of high explosives)... Why is that? Gee, let's hamstring the good guys and let the assholes run free. Again. Sil speaks to this well in a F-Locked entry yesterday, which is also posted to her Myspace. Go. Read.
Third Dose: The management trainer who infested my office this week. At one point, I asked her (politely, even) to turn down the music, and she made several snotty asides about it later in the day.
O FUCKING RLY?
She is cordially invited to a complimentary venti, half-caf, soy-infused, quad-shot cup of Shut The Fuck Up. I'm up here trying to get my fucking job done, and the fact that I can barely hear the person I'm trying to help over the ruckus wafting over the railing isn't making that any easier. Had I not been so goddamned busy, I'd have started contributing to the class in my own inimitable fashion, by interjecting off-color but appropriate asides.
For instance, the "how to put on a jacket" exercise could be done in one step:
"From looking at you, I can see that already know how to put on a (fugly) shirt. This is the same thing, just warmer. If you haven't figured out how to dress yourself by the north side of forty, you really need to have a talk with your parents."
-------------
This bucket of blah blah bitchycakes is courtesy of the fact that, since 10pm Wednesday, I have honestly done nothing but work, commute, and sleep. 11 hours at the office yesterday, with 15 minutes for lunch. Yeah, I'm a big bucket of fun to be around. Hopefully I can take it out on either digital minions or a softball this evening.
