Nah, she copied and pasted each letter individually from other posts.
how did you know?? stalker 
Ah, very smart. Makes sense, though, since only the very best people have two colanders.
The ads right now are for a colander, a strainer, and HIV testing. Awesome.
Holy mother of crap.
In honesty, I have to know: What is it like to be you?
Back off. I’m in line to touch the hem of her garment!
oh yeah? try this on for size!
You may touch my hem, but lay off the colanders, bitches! And don’t even think about my Taz coffee cup.
**expectopatronum ** - bah! They’re plastic. Pedestrian!
We are not worthy! We are not worthy!
Sorry for coming late to the party, but considering I am currently ass deep in social work crap, I couldn’t let this go by without comment:
[QUOTE=lindsay]
A ‘social worker’ is code for ‘someone too dumb to major in English’
[/QUOTE]
Et tu, lindsay? This is disappointing coming from someone who ostensibly has non-profit experience. Did you ever consider that the reason the field has so much difficulty attracting the best and brightest is because people love to make sweeping and negative generalizations about the people who practice it?
I promise I had the opportunity to major in English, and it bored the shit out of me because I was so damn good at it. But you want to know what I find to be a real challenge? Trying to solve tremendously pervasive and complex social problems with diminishing resources in a world where almost nobody gives a shit. The insults and degradation are just a bonus, really. I do it for the intellectual challenge.
Do you know why I chose social work, besides the obvious fact that it’s a natural expression of my values? Because I don’t give a good god damn about being wealthy, and if you knew anything about the real world you’d realize most people don’t either. Most people, myself included, just want a warm place to sleep, food in our bellies and the retirement funds to keep it going until we fall dead. You pontificate about how people have ‘‘failed to accomplish their dreams’’ but it never seems to occur to you that there are life goals and aspirations and dreams that exist outside the realm of making bank.
I’ve never been particularly attached to the idea of wealth, but when I married a man whose father truly is a child of money, it sealed the deal for me. My husband is a descendant of Italian immigrants who built a dynasty on a foundation of upscale construction and real estate. When my FIL was a little boy, his reward for being good in the car was getting to pick out a street to be named after him. They own large chunks of several wealthy neighborhoods. They didn’t just pay for their child’s education, but for the private education of their 25 grandchildren, right through college. This was not a financial burden for them.
It was fascinating at first but after the second or third Christmas party you start seeing people for who they are instead of how much they have. Have you ever walked into a room full of multi-millionaires and felt like the luckiest person there? Have you ever had a billionaire shake your hand and tell you that he envies you? And your only thought was, ‘‘I don’t blame you.’’ What’s not to envy? I am living my professional dream and I am madly in love. I have traveled the world and had all sorts of neat experiences. I have had the privilege of doing everything I want to do with my life and I’m not even thirty yet.
But one of the things that you have in common with my in-laws, despite your comparatively humble background, is that they seem to think success is a direct function of hard work without acknowledging the incredible luck it takes to achieve that degree of upward mobility. You take credit for your parents’ accomplishments but fail to acknowledge that people of even humbler backgrounds have achieved far more - my grandparents-in-law certainly have. Does this make them harder workers than your parents? Or maybe they in-laws are just more intelligent than your parents? My parents used to work until midnight, roll out their sleeping bags right on the office floor, get up at 5am or 6am and pick up right where they left off, straight through the weekend. On a good year that made us lower middle class. What makes you think your parents corner the market on hard work?
And while we’re at it, I really think ‘‘hard work’’ is one of those tropes that needs to be taken behind the barn and shot. I would rather spend the rest of my life in this one bedroom apartment than worship at the altar of work the way my parents did.
You call this happiness? Surrounded by toadying lackeys and paid sycophants? Living with a love goddess, sex-bomb model megastar. You call this contempt? Y’know, I stand here now, and I look at the two of us, and I ask one simple question: who is the rich man? You, with your fifty-eight houses, your private island in the Bahamas, your multi-billion pound business empire, or me, with…with…with what I’ve got? (After a few moments of silence) It’s you, isn’t it?
Well, congrats, you’re the first person in this thread I have actually envied (and I pretty much have literally everything I could want EXCEPT a vocation/calling: easy work that pays a lot, wife kid new car vacations blah)
olives, that was a dignified and eloquent statement. I congratulate you on knowing so well who you are and what you want, plus what you have.
There’s one thing more I would like to know, if you can forgive the boldness: how many colanders do you have?
TWO! Three if you count my special noodle pot with holes in the lid. I told you I was a woman of privilege.
Holes in the lid? That’s like a poor man’s colander.
Oh, don’t let the simplicity fool you. It’s an heirloom, really. Passed down from my grandmother.
Just like her money, most likely.
In actuality, you with the face was the rabid dog who bit the little girl.
Now I’m confused - is you with the face montro’s twin or a rabid dog? Does this mean monstro is also a dog (rabid or not)?