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.
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.
starring Jean Harlow
Upbraid: (v.) to reprove or reproach angrily
There was a news item out recently concerning the nature of friendships between humans and chickens. In it, the Center of Disease Control suggested that perhaps, just maybe, the new farming generation should create a more businesslike environment on their small hobby farms. Some people believe that happy chickens produce tastier, more healthful eggs, and seem to think that strong friendships are the key to happy chickens. In an effort to put the chickens at ease, they snuggle with them and apparently give them delicate smooches about the head and beak (and that is all, I hope). The CDC is totally grossed out, and AlexT, Dollissa, and I are OUTRAGED. As usual.
We don’t know for sure if kissing a chicken will get it to grow a better egg. But we DO know that we are being consumed with jealousy that we don’t have chickens of our own! We like egg-based meals! We like the sounds chickens make! We have watched documentaries about these things! I even have a book about raising chickens! It is a grave injustice that out of the three, zero of us have any chicken friends.
I made a comic out of our conversation, but do not be misled. This is not a comedy chat I have drawn. It is a true modern tragedy.
starring Bette Davis
Virago: (n.) a loud, violent, and ill-tempered woman; scold; shrew
Wow. Cool. Haha. Omg. Awesome.
The truth is, I didn’t click on your link at all. I’m sorry, but this had to be done and it’s about time I told you. You see, I just don’t care. You send me links every day, and I guess you haven’t figured it out, but I’m not interested. You can stop sending them anytime you want.
Just because I’m online, doesn’t mean I’m not busy. And just because I’m chatting with you, doesn’t mean that I can watch your favorite video of that guy from that movie saying a line from his other movie and then he giggles. Or that I want to, for that matter. Why would I care that you liked something?
Does it even align with my interests? Do you know what those are? It’s not endless cat videos, which you are showing me all the time. Now my Facebook timeline looks like I’m obsessed with cats! (Ignore the photos of my actual cats I guess.)