As I grapple with all seven stages of grief at the same time, rapidly cycling, alone and in bizarre combinations, over the death of AOL Instant Messenger today, December 15th, 2017 — a very dark day, I figured that I should try to get a taste of “Reconstruction and Working Through” (stage six) by celebrating that I have had good times there. I am doing this by putting up a comic, by acknowledging International Tea Day, and by crafting unwieldy, ugly sentences. Please pardon me. I am GRIEVING.
I am not a person who is given to complaint — don’t believe anything you might hear from the rumor mill! Vicious lies. In my daily living, I am not about to complain about regular human error. Mostly I am thinking that if I am served the wrong food, because I don’t have any outrageous food allergies or restrictions, I will just eat it because I would rather not waste food. And I guess I would rather not make a big fuss over it. Although I just realized that they probably would let me eat for free so maybe next time, if it ever happens again, I will say something! Witness my character growth in the very first paragraph in real time.
However, the point of this article is to tell you the story of this one time when I felt WRONGED. I was misled by packaging. So I went after the Kroger corporation in the only way I could figure out that didn’t involve speaking on the phone or to anyone’s face. I wrote an angry letter, just like an old person.
We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers.
I love describing my dynamic with cchris to anyone who has a moment to listen, because I never have been able to understand it. I even mention it on here as much as I can, partly because it’s part of my character makeup, and partly because I really am that bewildered by it. Over the years, things have shifted and changed. When I realized that he is very mysterious, my imagination occasionally will step in and try to figure out WHY. Who is so good at not giving out personal facts? For this many years? Is it villainy? Is it because there’s nothing there? Is it to appear more interesting? What is there to hide, and if there is nothing to hide — WHY.
The irrational fear depicted in the comic has OMGJeremy to blame. Apparently he thinks that cchris and I write similarly, and maybe it is HIS irrational fear that I am pretending to be this whole other person. When he first told me of this, I did have a little while where I might have been horrified and fearful at the possibility. That would be world-shattering to realize. But I guess I don’t fear it, exactly. If it turns out it’s all been in my head, that’s almost impressive. I could live with it. I could live with having made a little Canadian Tulpa. That’s fine. Whatever. I would just like to know for sure before I die of old age.
Welcome to my long overdue review of a movie called Dirty Girl! Welcome! Please feel welcome! I just sat down and thought to myself, “Hey what should I do next?” I have like a thousand things that I am behind on. Some things, heck, I am like two years behind on them. Where does the time go? As I perused my List of Burdens that are slowly sapping my will to live — and I look at this list somewhat frequently, and I lament. I lament at how I have all of these responsibilities to other people, or, I guess sometimes you can call them “promises” or maybe even “paid commissions” and I think about how when they are finished, I will be free at last to live my life and gosh that’ll be the day, and then I go and take a nap or something. But not anymore! Not today!
I think it has been mentioned before that I am a terrible movie-watcher. The silliest things bug me and if I am bugged like twice in a film, I get more and more hateful about it all. By the end, if I sit through the whole thing, I have created a mountain of anger out of pretty much nothing at all and I will have a rant if anyone lets me. I am ridiculously hard to please when it comes to films, especially, and I want you to know that upfront, in case you have actually come to this review wanting an unbiased opinion. I am SO biased, so read everything from here on out imagining that I am a hate-filled shrew who can find no joy in any aspect of living.
There are aspects of the human condition which baffle me. I mean, I have most of it all figured out, of course, but I admit some things make no sense to me. And there are things going on in our societies that seem like they are poorly thought out, and maybe even ill-advised. What is everyone thinking!
Most of us can agree that there are big things that are wrong. Big wrong things that nevertheless a lot of people partake in, such as racism, homophobia, murder, and so on. I will not speak further on those. I am here today to talk about the little things that aren’t hurting anyone but me and my brain. What are you people doing? Why!
Who’s that girl? That haughty broad who appears on anything I can incorporate her into, whenever I make anything for Sneer Campaign – who is she?? What makes her so special that she has basically become the symbol of Sneer Campaign, even though she isn’t one of us, and she isn’t even really sneering there. She’s clearly judging, or about to condescend in the coldest of ways. This silver screen wonder is Bette Davis and her Bette Face is our inspiration every day of the year.
We may not know a lot about cchris, but one of the things we DO know is that he has at some point consistently claimed that his birthday is August 3rd. Maybe this means something to those of you who are astrologically minded, but to us, it mostly means that it is the day that we talk to him about the ravages of aging. We don’t really know what he looks like, but at this point he probably has little crinkles at his eye corners. Is there greying in his hair? Does he have hair? He just might really be an ethereal wisp of snark and malice for all we know, but he is a surprisingly vain one. If he is a chatbot in real life, he was programmed to find the passage of time to be cruel. If every other thing about him is a lie, at the very least his displeasure at the idea of growing old and eventually dying seems to be authentic.
Cchris seems to spend a lot of time reading archived newspapers on the internet. I do not know why because whenever I ask he either ignores the question or just signs off for prying into his personal life. Ours is a healthy dynamic. He tends to usually read from the 1980s, decade of his supposed youth, or the sleazy 1970s. For no apparent reason, on this day of our conversation, he had taken a newspaper trip all the way back to 1913 in Whitby, Ontario. I guess he read this part to me because he probably is aware that I like horses. Again, I don’t know for sure if that is why he read it to me because he doesn’t answer questions and I didn’t bother to carefully craft a sentence that could ease him into letting his guard down to accidentally reveal a precious clue to his thoughts.
But at least he was able to zing me by the end.
At first glance, this looks like another post about horses. And maybe upon second glance, it looks like it is just showcasing that I am an uncharitable, selfish person when it comes to sharing my toys, as though I am a six-year-old, rather than an adult. It’s about both of those things, I guess, but actually, this is mostly an excellent example of how my mother is patient and long-suffering. You could even go so far as to say that she is a saint! I wouldn’t argue. Well yes, of course I would, but not very seriously.
It has been mentioned before that Dollissa and I had terrifying doll personas at the advent of Sneer Campaign. We have these dolls as avatars that attach to our author names when we comment, I think. Originally, they were going to appear at the end of each article, but we wound up selecting a wordpress theme that doesn’t do that. For a second, we were disappointed. Then we realized that it was probably a good idea to not have those unsettling dolls leering out at our readers. All that remains are our names. Confusing doll-names attached to two girls who don’t even like dolls. But how did we cook up the idea in the first place? Why, it’s all the fault of cchris, of course!