This will be short and bitter and lacking in requisite profanity. If anyone wants to swear at me, it will be greatly appropriate.
I suck. And not in the good way.
I suck for many reasons, but paramount at the moment is the fact that I cannot keep up with e-mail.
Two very lovely Dopers and three personal friends have all recently begun dialogues with me, dialogues on important topics of interest to all parties involved, and I have left them hanging.
I am underworked and overtired. I am sad and pathetic, I have no excuse for being so lethargic and unmotivated that I cannot even be arsed to reply to very heartfelt messages from people I like, respect and wish to communicate wiith.
If you’re one of those two Dopers, please accept my apologies. I’m not ignoring or forgetting you. I’m just… sucking. Even chocolate isn’t making me less sucky, so you know this is serious.
I need to have my butt kicked. Any takers? Line forms to the left.
I was gonna pit you TeaElle. And I mean pit you good! But I can’t. I try then I think, awwwww… but it’s TeaElle. I can’t pit TeaElle. I just can’t. Here, have a cookie instead.
And Anaamika, I thought you were going to poke Ukelele Ike, not me. Oops. Poking is acceptable. Right here, in my eye. I hope you have long nails. I deserve long nails.
Seriously, people, I SUCK and you’re being funny. I’m serious about this. I’m having a crisis of personal integrity and you’re offering up jokes.
What does a girl have to do to get cussed out and treated like the ungrateful biscuit eating bitch that she is?
TeaElle, you are an assnugget of the first order. You’re an asshole that other assholes admire for your supreme command of the asshole lifestyle. You are master of all things rectal. You smell like ass. You enjoy felching goat ass. On a scale of one to ten, you rate “ass.” While you smell like an elephant’s butt, you joined the Democratic party because their symbol is an ass. You ASSume things. You’re crASS. You attend mASS. You play the bASS.
Seriously, TeaElle, can you just send a quick reply that says something like “Thanks for your last message, but I’m in a bad place right now and can’t give a lengthy response. Can we continue this later?”
Oh yeah? You suck. To show how much of an ungrateful biscuit eating bitch you are, I’m giving you the left-over biscuits that I made for Fang and me this morning. They may be a little cold, they’ve been in the fridge for a could hours, but if you slice them open, toast them, give them some butter, toast them again, then put honey on them, they’re really good.
Oh, and sorry about the color. Some one used up all the crisco, and all I had left was the butter flavored crisco.
Just last week, I was swamped with an eight-page paper on homeless children in the early Soviet Union, a group Power Point on diabetes, and bunches of other stuff. I am now so tired and cranky and unmotivated, I can’t see straight, let alone do anything else.
So tonight, I’m having a really nice dinner and a hot bath. Anything I’ve got to do can wait until tomorrow.
You don’t need to have your ass kicked. Ass-kicking solves nothing. You just need to take a night off, have a nice dinner, and just be for a night. Read the cheesiest book you can find. If it has the slightest bit of redeeming value, chuck it. I’m talking Harlequin bodice-rippers with Fabio on the cover unredeeming.
I know, it’s hard to do with kids. But sometimes, you gotta have a night for you.
