"Where I spit, no grass grows, EVER."

I’m a reasonable person. But don’t fuck with me.

1) My mother’s pulmonologist, who again changed her medications w/o informing me or any of her other doctors, a trick which damn near killed her this summer. I faxed him (and cc’d all of her doctors) telling him that he does not want me to come down there in person. I will go all Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment on his sorry ass, and he knows it.

2) My longtime cat-sitter, who has been getting steadily flakier over the last year. Friday night she didn’t pick up one of my cats at the vet, as we’d arranged, then called to whine at me that “I had to call my parents to pick her up, you should have tooooold me she needed to be picked up after four” (which, of course, I had). I left a message on her machine telling her if she can’t do her job, I will get someone who can.

3) Michael, my friend of more than ten years, who I saw through his father’s death and have tried over and over to get him jobs (none of which he bothered to even apply for). Now that I am going through several major crises, he doesn’t have time to return my phone calls or e-mails because he’s “busy.” I told him I’ll be done with my master’s in 2007, and maybe we can do lunch then.

Don’t fuck with me, boys, this ain’t my first time at the rodeo.

Yes ma’am!

closes his eyes in holy dread

She’s got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle …

Anybody else have scenes from Attack of the 50-foot Woman playing through their heads?

Kick some ass, Eve. You’re an inspiration to sorry wimps like me.

note to self-do not piss off Eve.

I just look at my “What Would Joan Crawford Do?” bracelet, and let God sort 'em out.

Eve, if you’re channeling Joan Crawford, I’ll just grovel now and back away…slowly.

Seriously, I hope it all works out okay for you. Sounds like a general pile-on lately. Take care.

Governor Quinn make note of this, and is glad that he is currently on the other side of the country

See, I’m the exact opposite. Flowers grow wherever I spit. My farts smell of roses, and I shyte Ice Cream. :stuck_out_tongue:

Yeah, I get my ass kicked a lot.

Just… don’t… move… And careful… She can smell fear!

Quaking in boots.


Go all Shirley MacLaine on his ass? Pffft. I think going all Bette “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” Davis on his ass would be much more effective. God I hate it when people don’t live up to their obligations. Sounds like you may have to ditch some baggage in these tough times. Best.

Yeah Eve sometimes doctors suck.

If you need a shoulder my email is public.

I’ve let all these people slide, because the doctor has been my mother’s pulmonologist for 30 years; Carol has been my cat-sitter for nearly ten; and Michael and I have been friends for more than ten years and one gives one’s friends a lot of leeway.

But I will not let that doctor endanger my mother’s health because he’s too high and mighty to confer with other doctors.

I didn’t mind my cat-sitter screwing up and leaving my poor cat at the vet all night so much, but when she tries to pin the blame on me and whines that “it’s not fair!” she is obviously losing her grip and I cannot trust my cats’ health to her anymore.

And, Michael? You’re that “busy” (his excuse) that you can’t return my calls or e-mails to ask how my mother is doing, or how I’m doing?

When crossed, I’m ruthless. I will push you under the train and use your blood to polish my shoes.

What do you do to guys who don’t keep up on their e-mail correspondence?

Or detail the plot of Norman Douglas’s South Wind?

[sub]How are you and your mother doing, by the way?[/sub]

Well, I don’t keep sendin’ them books I think they’d enjoy without getting so much as a “thank you,” that’s fer damn sure.

So, you’re admitting you DIDN’T get my e-mail?

I sure hope the neighbours don’t install any inflatable Christmas decorations in the yard.

No one ever leaves a star!

Actually, I follow Garbo’s method: if one of her friends talked to the press, she ruthlessly cut them out of her life. Much as I admire Joan Crawford (and Norma Desmond), Garbo’s is my method. I still need that doctor’s services, so I have to take the trouble to browbeat and torment him into doing my bidding.

But people like the cat-sitter and Michael? They simply get the Cut Direct.