You know what I love? When people mistake polite and subdued for stupid and gullible and think that means they can rook you with idiocy and shady business practices. Oh wait! Whoops! * smacks forehead* I'm sorry, I don't love that. My bad. I don't love that at all.
H.A.T.E.
So sorry, next time I'll try to remember to be a complete bitch to you so you don't make that terrible mistake again and end up looking like the world's biggest fucking jackass. Fucking assholes.
If only I had the cojones* to say that to the asshole in question.... versus the oh-so confrontational method of writing it in anonymity on a blog no one fucking sees. Sigh. Baby steps? I'm not passive aggressive, just incredibly non-confrontational until pushed to my breaking point. Which, apparently, needs to arrive sooner in these moments.
* On a much happier and completely silly note. I instinctively spelled cojones right instead of using the typical English misspelling of it, and shall now take a brief moment to bask in my own awesomeness.
You may join me. :)
EDITED to add: Oh, ho ho. I'm not letting this one go boys and girls. I tried, but I'm really not a fan of people blatantly trying to rip me off, and expect I'll just shut up about it and quietly go away. Fuck that noise. :)
My sense of justice and fairness (not to mention decent business practices) is yelling at me to do something. My hope is that if I commit to it, I can get back to writing, instead of spending the entire day fuming impotently.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
1. 1 Broken Toe. Ah Ah Ah. 2. 2 Broken Toes. Ah Ah Ah
3. CRAKOW!*****
Yes, it's true. In the last 2 weeks or so I have managed to break 3 toes on two different feet. Which, since I only have two feet* makes it hard to walk around. On my left foot, the two toes closest to my big toe are broken. On my right foot I broke my baby toe. You might not think baby toes do much, Gentle Reader.
You would be wrong. Baby toes are valuable assets, heavily used in your basic walking type movement.
Of course you're dying, dying, to know how I broke them all. I'd like to say that I managed this feat of awesome while saving kittens from certain death by toddler, or stopping a runaway train, with the sheer force of my smile, from splatting a bunch of frail old people moving-very-slowly-with-walkers.
If I was feeling particularly inventive, I might spin you a tale about this one time in band camp when aliens landed and I single-handedly defeated them all with nothing more than a beat-up old tuba, three pairs of swimming trunks and Billy** from across the lake. In the process of being a one-woman, collar bone equivalent breaking, whirlwind of destruction I failed to notice that their skin is hard like diamonds. I KO'd*** the shit out of a dozen aliens, but broke my toes in the process. Luckily I also have 3 levels of "Mama Ain't Raised No Pussy"**** and was able to keep going.
The other toe was probably nearly eaten by a small, portable Sarlacc Pit it just happened to have in its pocket. In the alien's pocket. Obviously. Sarlacc Pits can't go carrying themselves around in their own back pockets, that's just silly.
But the sad, boring truth is that I stubbed them all, rather forcefully, on various items laying around the house (I'm looking at you, weight bar in my living room). Apparently I just had to go and ram them repeatedly into things harder then them.
Inanimate objects 3. Toes 0. Touche inanimate objects. Touche.
* You were totally expecting me to say otherwise weren't you. Like maybe I was gonna go off on some tangent and be all "This one time, at band camp...." Well, well. Jokes on you this time isn't it. Isn't it! I am normal... In this regard.
** Billy didn't do much, but he was great at running out into the open screaming and drawing the attention of everything in a three mile radius. Good 'ole Billy. It's too bad about that alien ray gun.
*** What? Breaking a collar bone hurts. And these were wimpy aliens. No pain tolerance. Don't look at me like that. I can still axe kick, broken toes or not. I am Badass.
**** Ohhh the irony of that title in regards to my gender. Also, should I ever decide to make a Pen and Paper RPG, I'm totally going to use that as the title for the pain tolerance ability.
***** This is the sound thunder makes. And it's number five instead of one because I forgot to add this until the end. Also, I'm lazy and refuse to go back and re-number everything because that can't possibly be quicker than typing this explanation out. You're welcome.
Yes, it's true. In the last 2 weeks or so I have managed to break 3 toes on two different feet. Which, since I only have two feet* makes it hard to walk around. On my left foot, the two toes closest to my big toe are broken. On my right foot I broke my baby toe. You might not think baby toes do much, Gentle Reader.
You would be wrong. Baby toes are valuable assets, heavily used in your basic walking type movement.
Of course you're dying, dying, to know how I broke them all. I'd like to say that I managed this feat of awesome while saving kittens from certain death by toddler, or stopping a runaway train, with the sheer force of my smile, from splatting a bunch of frail old people moving-very-slowly-with-walkers.
If I was feeling particularly inventive, I might spin you a tale about this one time in band camp when aliens landed and I single-handedly defeated them all with nothing more than a beat-up old tuba, three pairs of swimming trunks and Billy** from across the lake. In the process of being a one-woman, collar bone equivalent breaking, whirlwind of destruction I failed to notice that their skin is hard like diamonds. I KO'd*** the shit out of a dozen aliens, but broke my toes in the process. Luckily I also have 3 levels of "Mama Ain't Raised No Pussy"**** and was able to keep going.
The other toe was probably nearly eaten by a small, portable Sarlacc Pit it just happened to have in its pocket. In the alien's pocket. Obviously. Sarlacc Pits can't go carrying themselves around in their own back pockets, that's just silly.
But the sad, boring truth is that I stubbed them all, rather forcefully, on various items laying around the house (I'm looking at you, weight bar in my living room). Apparently I just had to go and ram them repeatedly into things harder then them.
Inanimate objects 3. Toes 0. Touche inanimate objects. Touche.
* You were totally expecting me to say otherwise weren't you. Like maybe I was gonna go off on some tangent and be all "This one time, at band camp...." Well, well. Jokes on you this time isn't it. Isn't it! I am normal... In this regard.
** Billy didn't do much, but he was great at running out into the open screaming and drawing the attention of everything in a three mile radius. Good 'ole Billy. It's too bad about that alien ray gun.
*** What? Breaking a collar bone hurts. And these were wimpy aliens. No pain tolerance. Don't look at me like that. I can still axe kick, broken toes or not. I am Badass.
**** Ohhh the irony of that title in regards to my gender. Also, should I ever decide to make a Pen and Paper RPG, I'm totally going to use that as the title for the pain tolerance ability.
***** This is the sound thunder makes. And it's number five instead of one because I forgot to add this until the end. Also, I'm lazy and refuse to go back and re-number everything because that can't possibly be quicker than typing this explanation out. You're welcome.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
It's always bullet time when I vomit.
If you go all the way back to the end of May, there is a post that I accidentally left sitting in the draft stage and only now got around to posting. It's an angry post, but in it I also dub myself the Sith Lord Queen of Failbake so it might be worth a read.
In other news, I give you more random convo snippets and things you might hear if standing near me:
In other news, I give you more random convo snippets and things you might hear if standing near me:
"It's always bullet time when I vomit."
"No, Most Beloved, you may not “capture my crazy” on camera for posterity."
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Adventures with Meat!
Man that sounds dirty doesn't it? Tee hee.
Latest round of jerky did not turn out as good as the first batch. I'm not entirely sure why, could be any number of reasons. The meat we got this time was sliced verrry thin. Thin enough that I suspect drying it out before sticking it in the dehydrator (that being the normal process) may have caused it to lose all the yummy-tummy flavor. Another issue could have been that I didn't make enough marinade for it all. As such the meat didn't get covered enough. Realistically it was probably a combination of all those factors. Lesson learned for next time.
This saddens me greatly because not only do I looooove LOVE good beef jerky, I went to considerable time and effort to make an amazing sweet and spicy marinade that I was quite proud of. C'est la vie.
I enjoy writing funny shit. I need to do that more often.
Latest round of jerky did not turn out as good as the first batch. I'm not entirely sure why, could be any number of reasons. The meat we got this time was sliced verrry thin. Thin enough that I suspect drying it out before sticking it in the dehydrator (that being the normal process) may have caused it to lose all the yummy-tummy flavor. Another issue could have been that I didn't make enough marinade for it all. As such the meat didn't get covered enough. Realistically it was probably a combination of all those factors. Lesson learned for next time.
This saddens me greatly because not only do I looooove LOVE good beef jerky, I went to considerable time and effort to make an amazing sweet and spicy marinade that I was quite proud of. C'est la vie.
I enjoy writing funny shit. I need to do that more often.