My Ecology Rant for the New Year

So, I've been watching Public Television recently... and I saw this show about the glaciers in Greenland, and how they are melting faster than anyone thought possible. It was really interesting and I started to feel really bad about the ways I contribute personally to global warming. The biggest thing being the burn pile... which is where all my trash goes. (The why's and wherefore's of that is a whole other story).

Then, on the heels of that show there was another one about Antarctica and what would happen if all that ice melted... talk about gloom and doom...

I probably could have started to get really depressed and scared about the whole thing, but there was this wonderfully wicked part of me that was thinking how cool it would be if suddenly the polar ice caps did melt and the world was totally reshaped. It would be so exciting and dramatic - like a disaster movie - only for real!

I don't know if other people have that small core of wickedness.. but it's the same thing that compells me to want to drop everything and watch whenever a plane flies overhead... and then be mildly disappointed when it didn't drop out of the sky in flames... My dad would probably say it's the Devil in me, and I don't know, maybe he's right... nevertheless, whatever it is, I have it. And let's face it - I'm probably not a "good person."

Anyway - then I watched a movie called "Bag It." It was a documentary about plastic bags, plastic, and our ridiculous notion that we should make a gagillion disposable bags, wrappers, and containers out of a non renewable substance that will last virtually forever in the environment... Here's a trailer for the movie:



So I watched it, and then I did get depressed - and angry too. Seeing whales beached and dead because their stomachs were full of plastic bags... birds feeding plastic to their babies because it was floating in the ocean and looked like food... And then there's this whole thing about great swirling "isalnds" of trash in the ocean - take a look at this really interesting and cool graphic Through The Gyre after you watch this video:

The wicked part of me was not at all titillated... and I was starting to think that maybe I should do something about it... actually, the wicked angry part of me wanted to walk into the boardrooms of those giant corporations who care more about money than they do about nature and blow their brains all over the boardroom floor...

But... I don't have a gun... and well... I'd have to get dressed and get into my car... and figure out where those boardrooms are... find my way into them...get past security... and then there would be the screaming.. and the blood... probably a lot more cool in a movie than in person... not to mention the life in prison ordeal and having to eat crappy prison food... deal with other inmates... mean bitches way more wicked than me... the whole thing just seemed... well... like way too much work... Plus there's this other thing annoyingly true thing:  if we - the consumers - weren't buying what they were selling - that would be the end of it! Interesting how easy it is to blame the faceless "others" when it's really myself who holds at least some responsibility.

And then I hit on the ideal solution! Global warming! I just need to help Antarctica melt in a hurry - and ta da! Problem solved.

The planet could get really warm - people could die off in huge numbers - those that remain would learn a really good lesson about ecology and fossil fuels - all those gagillion bits of plastic would eventually be assimilated somehow -  and yes - I'm sorry about the polar bears and the penguins - but let's face it - some things have to be sacrificed for the greater good!

So... here's my plan. No more plastic bags from the store - and no more plastic bottles of water. At least - not if I can help it. And whatever plastic I end up with... well... hey! I'm going to burn it in my burn pile and pray for the Arctic ice to melt in a hurry... it'll be my sacrifice - my prayer - my ritual to the God of Global Warming. And if nothing else, I can have the comfort of knowing that none MY plastic bags will end up here:

It's Still Here!

Yowsers! I haven't posted here since March!! Probably because I've been so busy posting a gazillion posts a day over on Gypsy Magic in between bouts of working my fingers to the bone at the Hell Mouth and sitting like a brain fried zombie in front of the TV.

So what's been happening while I've been away? Well, while I wasn't paying attention, someone was very busily hijacking my blogs. And since I have like... I dunno... 27 of them which is a ridiculous number... I didn't even notice until just now!

Which sent me on a rather annoying journey of clicking on a blog link - finding out it's redirecting to hotlinkfiles.com - having a short but foul mouthed shit fit - replacing the cool template that I really liked a lot or it wouldn't have been there in the first place - with a makeshift hastily found template that I really don't like but I'm in a hurry and it's the only way to get my blog back - and then fiddling with it until I realize I'm too pissy to make anything nice out of it - deleting the spam comments just in case they somehow had something to do with it - some sneaky malware code embedded in the totally off topic comment - and then on to the next one...

Happily - this blog is still A-OK. And I'm glad I visited because I had forgotten how much I like this little nook I made in that tangled web I wove... So... Hello and goodby. I hope I'll be back soon with something cool and surprising.

Doing The work without doing it!

So, looks to me like nobody actually wants to do "the work." And if you don't have a clue what I'm talking about - that's ok because well... I never do either.

And what I think I'm talking about is the latest Prosperity Project. A while back, I thought it would be a really good idea to do The Work - and I've been working my ass off avoiding doing the actual work of doing the work. Instead, what I have done is an unprecedented amount of blogging. I have actually completed the entire 30 day project - 2 sometimes 3 posts a day for 30 days - that's more than 60 posts folks!! - complete with awesome illustrative artwork - all prescheduled so that the Prosperity Project can post like clockwork and I'll never even have to look at it for the entire time we're "doing the work."

I may even have to do the work on why I'm not doing the work... so that I can find out if it's really true or not that I'm not doing it because maybe I'm actually doing it without knowing that I'm doing it...

It's fun that no one else is doing it with me because now I can moan and complain about how nobody wants to do the work - and nobody is participating - and nobody even goes to the prosperity project. I can blame my own lack of participation on everyone else's lack of participation and find all kinds of excuses to feel sorry for myself - and use up every inch of my available brain power with that so that there really isn't time - or room in my life to do the work on myself for myself with myself by myself.

Cool, huh? And hey, if you're totally not interested in doing the work over at the Prosperity Project, you're probably equally not interested in all the cool pictures I found to go with it.

I didn't, for example, post this one:

Nor did I post these:

Astonshing, the talent it would take to do this, huh?

Yes, it is actually a shoe carved into the lead of a carpenter's pencil!

Nifty, huh?

Pencil shavings - who thinks of shit like this?

I didn't post this one either - it's a torso made of pencils.

Looks almost snuggly, doesn't it?

Yes, you guessed it!

That's a big glob made out of pencils.

Oh, and just in case you didn't want to see it!

Here's one I actually did post.

My Flag Of Surrender

So, the 30 days of Begging (over at The Prosperity Project) is completed, and I did have a small epiphany when writing the post about my thoughts on the subject. I even found a picture to illustrate said epiphany - and here it is, a perfect illustration of the way in which I submit to authority and admit defeat:

Not Newsworthy!

Want to know what I like?
Here's what I like.

I find something relevant to the actual news of the day, something dramatic and passionate. And I write a post about it... And then I don't post it until like... I hmmm... let me look here... 6 months later when it's no longer newsworthy, relevant, or even interesting! That's what I like!

Want to know what else I like?
The fact that I'm going to do that exact thing right now!
And here it is:

“In known history, nobody has had such capacity for altering the universe than the people of the United States of America. And nobody has gone about it in such an aggressive way.”
–Alan Watts

Here’s a heavily profane, NSFW bit of catharsis for ya.



Along with the video comes this lively bit of profanity in response.

Fuck BP
Fuck those limey fucks. Give us our fucking money!
~sivart222222

And this a response to the response:

it's the american dream, isn't it? no regulation. arn't most americans buying into this. why?
buying to unfuck the gulf? not really possible and why make, and sell t shirts.
the water footprint of cotton is horrendous, the working conditions of the field workers are horrendous, they get the incectiside along with the plants, then herbicides are used to make the leaves fall off.
the sweatshop conditions most t 's are made in are horendous.
all that to save the gulf and pollute something else?
~sabelmouse

Well guess what, you guys.
Nobody fucking cares!
Nobody!!

Parenting Fail?

I found this today on Yahoo, and I thought it was interesting... and also annoying! Here is a man, a person with billions of dollars, a "success" in life, maybe he's even a good person... I don't know... But here he is giving the best advice he's ever received and it's totally useless to me in terms of money and success.

"The power of unconditional love. I mean, there is no power on earth like unconditional love. And I think that if you offered that to your child, I mean you’re 90 percent of the way home. There may be days when you don’t feel like it, it’s not uncritical love, that’s a different animal, but to know you can always come back, that is huge in life. That takes you a long, long way. And I would say that every parent out there that can extend that to their child at an early age, it’s going to make for a better human being." ~Warren Buffett

One of the things I can for sure say about my parents - despite all the shit they put me through, despite all the shit I put them through, I always knew they loved me. I always knew I could "come home" and be welcomed with open arms. Even if that meant there'd be a fair amount of "preaching" and "sermonizing" and criticism, even if it meant they'd never really "get" me... it was always there... their love for me.

And yet - I'm not rich. As a matter of fact, not only am I not rich, I'm not comfortable, well off, or even just OK. I'm scrambling all the time to make ends meet. Nor am I successful on any level from which I would measure success. I'm not at all happy or satisfied with my life, not at all. As a matter of fact, just yesterday I was contemplating how pleasurable it would be to just walk right out of it.

So how useful is it, really, to have received unconditional love from your parents? I don't know... it sounds good, it feels good, but how has it helped me? Am I a better human being? Better than what? Better than who? Of course on the other hand, without it, maybe I'd be living in a box under a bridge nursing my heroin habit - or maybe I'd be in prison - or long dead... But maybe not, maybe I would have pulled myself up by my own bootstraps and made a better "go" at it!

Just yesterday, my friend Michelle was telling me this story about a woman who was on, of all things, the Tyra Banks Show. As I remember it, the story goes as follows:

Her mother died when she was 10, her abusive stepfather put her in foster care where she was raped and abused, she ended up on the street, a prostitude at the age of 11, got hooked on drugs, a pretty terrible life. Worse than mine, that's for sure. And then one day, when she was in her 40's, something happened, I don't remember what, and she got her act together went school, studied law, and became a lawyer. Now, she's a "success" and I bet she has money! So... there you have it... I doubt if she ever had unconditional parental love, even once. And yet, if you measure her life against mine - she'd win hands down.

On the other hand, what if... and this is the other thing I was thinking about after I watched the video... what if... I made a conscious decision to meet everyone, every single person I see, with that attitude of unconditional love. What would happen to my life then? What if, despite the fact that I really really really dislike my neighbors - what if, I met them with an attitude of no barriers, and unconditional love. And what if I went to my job, that I don't enjoy at all, and instead of being all closed into my fatigue, resentment, boredom, and intense desire to run away screaming... what if instead of all that, I simply met each experience with an attitude of unconditional love. What if there was an openess and an acceptance of ... whoa nelly! I can't believe I'm going to actually say this... an unconditional loving of me - screwed up mess that I am...

Now that just might be pretty powerful! Question is, can I do it? Bigger question, will I even attempt it?

Ok, so now that I've talked it to death, here's the video:

This Is Just Wrong

I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique

Wrong

Wrong

There's something wrong with me chemically
Something wrong with me inherently
The wrong mix in the wrong genes
I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means
It was the wrong plan
In the wrong hands
The wrong theory for the wrong man
The wrong eyes on the wrong prize
The wrong questions with the wrong replies

Wrong

Wrong

I was marching to the wrong drum
With the wrong scum
Pissing out the wrong energy
Using all the wrong lines
And the wrong signs
With the wrong intensity
I was on the wrong page of the wrong book
With the wrong rendition of the wrong look
With the wrong moon, every wrong night
With the wrong tune playing till it sounded right yeah

Wrong

Wrong
(Too long)
Wrong
(Too long)

I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique

Wrong

~Depeche Mode/Wrong

I'd love to stay and chat...

... but you're a total bitch.

It Might Be Goodbye

Ok... well, here's the thing.

Being the Gypsy Witch that I am, I have been content to break rules and fly by the seat of my pants where the picture blogs are concerned. I try not to post anything that isn't pretty much posted every where else already.

But... I have apparently tweaked someone's inflated sense of being a busy body, and it's possible that my Flickr account will get deleted unless I pull all the pictures that aren't mine real soon. Like maybe even tomorrow. This doesn't give me very many choices. I could scramble and lose sleep and move all 2000 pictures to other sites where the admin isn't so prickly. That part wouldn't be so bad... it's rewriting all those blog posts... I can't even imagine how long that would take!!

OR ... I could just give the whole situation over to the Red Jesus, and then if the Flickr account goes by by, I could simply delete all the blogs.

Well, I wouldn't HAVE to delete all of them, I could probably keep a few of them afloat if most of the images suddenly go away, but the picture blogs are toast if that happens. I'd have to really scramble to take care of a disaster of those proportions. And maybe it wouldn't be worth it...

I don't know if I'd have the heart for blogging if I became a Flickr pariah... outcast... persona non grata... WOW! That would get my "issues" and my "stuff" in an uproar. Big time.

Interestingly, just the other day, during my morning meditation, I had a thought that maybe the blogging and the internet is taking up too much of my time and energy. Time and energy that I could be using to actually dig really deep and begin to live shamanism... and art... and magic.

So, if I suddenly disappear from the blogosphere. Maybe even from the web. Vanish into thin air... you'll know. I threw up my hands and said... I don't know what... Aarrgghhhh is probably what it might sound like.

I wonder will you miss me?
Or would you even notice I was gone?

Which brings up why it is that I even like blogging... it's really actually kind of sick. Maybe even a little bit crazy. How?

What I love about the picture blogs is that they are POPULAR. (ergo: I'm popular)... which is really sad and sick when you weigh in the fact that the pictures I post aren't mine... and weren't even posted by me first. My so called "popularity" is derived solely by me hitching a ride on someone who is authentically popular and interesting. The same holds true for Mandala Madness, Gypsy Magic, Way Cool Quotes, and the Prosperity Project... people go there, they get inspired, they get uplifted, they have good experiences, maybe it even makes their day... but not from anything I actually wrote. NO it's from stuff I find that OTHER people write.

This little blog here is the only one that with mostly stuff I've written... and how many readers do I have here? Let's get real! What... two? three? And who are they, Bob? Gracie? Maybe Daniel? And do you guys come here because what I say is all that great? Because I make a difference in your life? I doubt it.

The rest of the people who visit this blog, come for the stuff I collected from someplace else. Don't believe me? Read the sidebar! So, if I disappear from the blogosphere, it won't be a great loss.. I might be missed for about.. oh I don't know... 20 seconds?

Anyway, this is turning into a rant... a poor me pit\ty party rant no less. And it's all because my "stuff" is up and running already. And what is that "stuff?" I talked about it in a round about way when I posted all that Caroline Myss stuff, and here it is the short form.

I've spent most of my life deriving my "power" my "self esteem" my "feel good" energy and my "worthiness" from the deep inner knowing that in order to be OK, I have to be needed and appreciated. If I'm approved of too, well, that's even better. By doing all this blogging, and having subscribers, and readers, and upwards of 3600+ people a day (all total) reading what I've posted (I added it up) - well that gives me a definite feeling of being needed and appreciated.

No wonder I'm not feeling authentic. I'm getting all my kudos, all my pats on the back, all my feel good energy for stuff OTHER PEOPLE did. It might be really good for me to pull that plug!

I don't know.
We'll see.

Damn it!!

Ok, so I was looking for an image for a Prosperity Project post, and ended up on this website... I'm never eating meat again! I say this... and I think it might even be true. I don't want one dime of my money to go to support the companies that do this shit!!

This really pisses me off! If I actually follow through on this, my life just got way more complicated!! Me not eating meat is one thing, but what about my dogs? I have been making my own dog food with turkey and rice. It's easy, it seems (now I'm not so sure) to be healthy for my dogs, and up until today, I felt pretty good about it. Now, I'm not so sure... How can the food we eat be even remotely good for us when this is what happens to it?


For example:

• Over 300 million turkeys are killed every year in the United States, 40 million of them specifically for Thanksgiving.
• The majority of these are raised in factory farms where they are stacked in cages in windowless sheds where they can't live naturally (or happily) in any sense of the word.
• Often they cannot move, and many die in the conditions before they are fully grown.
• They are debeaked and declawed without anesthesia, making it difficult or even impossible for them to eat.
• Those who survive are fed until they are grotesquely obese and cannot stand because their skeletons are too weak from confinement.
• Over-burdened in this way, and trapped in close quarters with too little oxygen, many turkeys die when their hearts explode from the physical stress....

... I am so sorry, but this post has been moved to my new website, Hey It's Me, hosted at shirleytwofeathers.com, and can be found in it's entirety here: Damn it!!

How to Speak Cockatiel Like a Native

Now that I have Max and Tory, I thought it might be a good idea to learn a little bit about Cockatiels. This is what I've discovered:

Learning to communicate like a Cockatiel is no challenge. They simply demand and expect you to deliver.

Cockatiels are a study of activity…these birds never stop moving, at least not if they can possibly help it. The favorite thing to do for a Cockatiel is chewing. They will chew on paper, cardboard, fabric, power cords, pencils and virtually anything else that will fit into their beaks. If they don't have anything to chew on they will grind their bills together to make a sort of crunching noise. This crunching noise is a vocabulary unto itself. What it basically means is, I'm bored, do something….now! The need to chew is probably symbolic of the never-ending growth cycle of a bird's beak. It doesn't stop growing so chewing on objects is the bird's natural way of checking the growth of its own beak. Regardless of the necessity of said chewing, it does not endear the bird to its owner any more than tornadoes endear us to trailer parks. Oh yes, and if the bird has nothing to chew on, and gets bored chewing it's own beak, it will preen.

Preening is an activity that takes up about 75 percent of the Cockatiel's day. First the bird must dig deeply with its beak, under, around and over each and every feather on its body. This is a time-consuming process but the bird has nothing but time, so the job will get done. After the feathers are all cleaned, then the bird goes to work on its own hide, picking off dead pieces of skin and depositing them on a person's shirt sleeve. When the whole process is finally finished, the bird gives a mighty shake and sends bits of bird dander and feathers flying everywhere. Then it starts all over again.

Most Cockatiels have a one-word vocabulary. It consists of, and I quote…”screech!” This one word is spoken in two different ways, at high volume and at top volume. High volume will hurt your ears, especially if the bird is perched on your shoulder when he says it. Top volume will pop your eardrum, which makes me wonder if every Cockatiel on the planet is stone cold deaf. High volume is used when the bird wishes to make a statement regarding its own situation. It can stand for everything from, “it's cold in this meat locker; get me a furnace pronto,” to, “I hate humans but I let them live because they feed me.”

Top volume is reserved for those moments when the bird suspects that it is being ignored. This is intolerable and must be dealt with swiftly. The further away the bird owner is, the louder the complaint from the ignored bird. So, basically, if I am in Florida and the bird is in Michigan, watch out. Glass is scheduled to break within the borders of five states. The screeching does not stop until either one of two things happens. Either the bird drops over dead or it gets its own way, one or the other.

Cockatiels will climb the insides of their cages as if they are jungle gyms, dangling from either their claws or their beaks. They will hang themselves by their beaks from the roof of the cage and kick their feet furiously in mid-air hoping to get purchase on something. Cockatiels will spin completely around backwards in mid-air with their heads firmly connected to the roof of the cage. It is quite unnerving the first time you witness a bird spinning its head completely around backwards like an owl. It brings to mind a young Linda Blair in the film, “The Exorcist.” If your cockatiel starts spewing pea soup and develops a voice similar to Darth Vader's, watch out.

All of the theatricals and dance steps are done to inform the bird's owner that the bird is ready for some out-of-cage time, and you will ignore that request at your own peril as the bird will simply make its demands louder and louder until you respond favorably. Cockatiels automatically assume that all humans are hearing impaired so they do their very best to make themselves known to one and all. Having tantrums is not above them. In fact, it is second nature.

The cockatiel “tizzy” consists of clinging to the side of the cage and rapidly beating the wings against the bars, creating an effect similar to a very large humming bird. If this doesn't work, it will be accessorized by some clever head spinning, and glass shattering. If that also doesn't work, the cockatiel will furiously pummel its little mirror toy into submission. If that last ditch effort does not work, the cockatiel will assume you have either died or gone stupid, and it will attempt to lift the door of its own cage itself. It will succeed in doing so too, if it works at it long enough. Cockatiels only pretend to be dumber than people. In reality, they are the ones writing the bird owner's book.

Cockatiels are kissers too. They will nibble and smooch your face for hours on end. All you have to do is eat something in the bird's presence and the nibbling will commence. This is the their way of saying, “I saw you eat that morsel right in front of a poor, starving birdie. How could you do that, you bad human?” They will kiss you until you give in and let them have a taste of what you are eating. They will bite it once, and never touch it again in order to return to nibbling your face. What you have in your mouth is seventy times tastier than what you offered to the bird, -- even if it is the same exact stuff.

Basically, the only language lesson you need to learn from a Cockatiel is this…do for me, and do for me right now. If you don't do for me right this second, I will call the pet owner's police and then you'll be sorry. You don't think that birds know how to use the telephone? Ha! That's just what they would like you to think.

Source: Kristie Leigh Karns

Things You Should Know About Shirley

My sister, bless her heart, kept a word-for-word dictation of my thoughts and feelings about Me. Wanna hear it? I was angry and frustrated and depressed that day, so it's quite a rant.

• Shirley isn’t good enough,
• Shirley doesn’t make good decisions,
• Shirley is a failure and Shirley is a fraud.
• Shirley should stop whining and complaining and start taking care of business.
• Shirley should stop sabotaging every good thing that comes to her.
• Shirley should stop being embarrassed about all the things she knows how to do and start fucking doing them.
• Shirley shouldn’t badmouth Shirley all the time.
• Shirley should stop relying on other people’s opinions instead of her own.
• Shirley needs to stop looking for validation outside of herself.
• Shirley should practice what she preaches; she should use her skills that she has and use what she knows.
• Shirley should stop avoiding and start wading into what is right in front of her.
• Shirley needs to practice unconditional love.
• Shirley spends too much time on the computer.
• Shirley is hiding out.
• Shirley is an outcast -
• Shirley will do anything to avoid humiliation including and especially living a full life.
• Shirley doesn’t deserve good things because she is a fraud.
• Shirley is fraudulent because she isn’t authentic in the way she lives, acts, or thinks.
• Shirley needs to do something scary every day or at least every week.
• Shirley needs to go out side every day.
• Shirley isn’t special, wonderful or loved;
• God doesn’t like Shirley.
• She isn’t safe in the world.
• Shirley isn’t as spiritual as other people think she is.
• If people really knew Shirley, they would find her too intense and they woudn’t like her at all.
• She would get on their nerves.
• Shirley isn’t a good artist – she’s lucky - her pieces are accidents and other people are being nice but they don’t really mean it – or they don’t know any better.
• Shirley isn’t wise – that is why her life is such a mess.
• Shirley’s got so little compassion and love her youngest won’t speak to her and she judges her oldest severely.
• If Shirley were successful she would not be in debt.
• Shirley has no relationship with a lover –
• Shirley is untouchable - Impregnable, safe, powerful, and mean.

Well, so now you know... Yes, it's all true... Yes, it isn't true at all... I'm so silly sometimes! How about you? What do you say about you when the shit hits the fan?

OMG! I am so irritated!

Apparently I have exceeded the bandwidth at one of my (soon to be former) image hosting accounts, My Other Drive. Interestingly, there is no place - I repeat not one place where a person can see that they are even getting close to exceeding said bandwidth. So, I had no clue. I haven't even used 25% of my storage space there...

I suppose this was to be expected, considering how popular the picture blogs are, and naturally, I would discover the situation an hour before I have to leave for work! I did do some "damage" control by pulling as many affected posts as I could find. Don't worry, they're not gone for good, I'm just saving them in draft form while I work to get the images uploaded to more reliable host site... probably Flickr or Slide.

So, please be patient. If you find a post with a little red x instead of an image, I'd love it if you'd leave a comment so that I can add it to the list of posts to redo.

Feeling Pissy?

F#%k you CHORES

Original URL: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/det/367342914.html
this craigslist posting was forwarded to you by someone using ouremail-a-friend feature - if you want to prevent these, please go here

Fuck you, cleaning the fridge. How the hell do you get so dirty? I don't eat in there, I simply store food. What the fuck is that stain on the bottom shelf? Do gnomes have parties in here when I'm at work or something? Nasty little gnomes. And, for some reason, I feel really, really vulnerable when I'm bent over, scrubbing your gross shelves. Don't know why. So thank you for keeping my beer cold, but fuck you for making a mess of it.

Fuck you, paying bills. Every fucking month? Are you kidding me? I barely even watched TV this month, I still gotta shell out all that cash? And, while I'm at it, fuck your pathetic little late fees. They're small enough for me to easily ignore them but they add up over time. So thank you for the electricity, water and internet, but fuck you for your constant demands.

Fuck you, deleting old files from my computer. What man can make this decision? It's like choosing which of my kids to leave behind on the sinking ship. Fuck, this is killing me. I hate my old ass computer.

Fuck you, changing light bulbs. It's 2006, right? I was pissed when I wasn't issued a jetpack in 2000 (where's my fucking raygun?!?), but I figured by now technology would've at least advanced to the point where I don't have to stand on my wobbly chair and deal with this crap. Two bonus fuck yous: for scaring the crap out of me when I walk into a darkened room, innocently flick the switch and get momentarily blinded by that huge flash and terrifying pop! Also, for somehow convincing your lightbulb brethren to join you, causing a chain reaction that means I'm filled with fear whenever I turn on a light. Pop! Pop! Pop! What, did you all join in a suicide pact while I was asleep?

Bastards.

Fuck you, washing dishes. Yes, I know, you smell funny, and I know the longer I wait, the more weird slime stuff is just gonna accumulate on you. That's why I've pretty much switched to just using paper plates (fuck you, environment) and eating with my hands. I'm a caveman in an apartment.

Finally, fuck you, writing this rant.

Found in my inbox this morning!
Thank you Daniel!
I totally agree!