Shaddap.

I seem to have upset a few people with my last post.  Hey, I live to annoy; I only rarely get the opportunity away from here.  I would like to mention though -- I at no time mentioned SOCIOECONOMIC STATUS as being the differentiator between me and thee, as it were.  

No, no...actually what I said was that I (and my sister, as well as my family, most all my friends, and so forth) are better than the type of person who is a selfish, self-serving, lazy, irresponsible alcoholic with a documented, undebateable history of drunken driving.  I stand by that statement; we may all start off 'equal' from birth, but our actions from that point certainly do sharply differentiate us all...it's this little thing called PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY.  Guess what?  That rewards the people who behave and make good with themselves.  *My* system works better than others where everyone stays 'equal' regardless of their actions and personal choices.  

Allow me to further entertain with a brief list of other 'types' who have less value than myself:  

1) Child abusers/molesters

2) People who hurt or neglect animals

3) People who hurt/neglect/take advantage of the elderly

4) Spree killers

5) Serial killers

6) Gang-bangers

7) People who destroy things just to destroy them

8) Pathological liars

9) Thieves

10) Most criminals

11) Many politicians

12) ANYONE who allows their selfish fun to injure others (e.g., DUIs, peer pressure, etc...)

13) People who commit hate crimes (yeah, that's as opposed to the 'ilu crimes', smartass)

14) Spouse/partner abusers

15) Rapists

16) People who could do something to help in this world and choose not to because it is inconvenient

I could go on, but I am getting bored.  I may re-post my original post; I could also post my post where I got all medieval on some hineys, and I may still, but the one thing that I will not do is allow the misconception to continue that I said something that was 'snotty'.  This has nothing to do with 'snot', nothing to do with SES, and everything to do with MORALITY.  We're aiming for stages five or six here; feel free to work on that.  

And stop kvetching.  If you really think that I suck, consider this dismaying observation: this blog has no windows, and no doors. Which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out! Of course, there's always my way:

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Too blunt for many, too sharp for most...I guess.

Ok, this is funny: I finally managed to get Harry to use his health insurance to go to a fucking therapist, 'cos I cannot spend eight million weeks on his problems any longer. Harry asked me to go to the initial appointment today with him, because he has 'sensitive' issues that he has a hard time talking about, and I am all about just ripping the band-aid right the fuck off.

So I went to his late afternoon appointment with him, checked credentialling, made sure this therapist was not going to pull anything batshit like crystal healing or praying to trees on Harry (hey; these days, a PhD is a guarantee of NOTHING -- nutbags abound, and as far as I knew, this guy graduated last week from the University of Papaya, and plans to free the world of neuroses through kundalini yoga), and then gave a Harry anamnaesis (to the best of my ability). Then the therapist spoke with Harry, and I interjected when he was lying, misrepresenting, misunderstanding, or just plain forgetting. See, I have no problem at all explaining dirt. Don't mind it at all, and hold it against no-one; I'm the All Reality, All The Time Girl. Unfortunately. Harry was embarrassed at times, sure, but Harry took it well; he really has a hard time talking about some things, and I at least got the conversation started.

The result?

This therapist has asked if I could clear my schedule to return next week, 'cos I've cut so much time out of him having to wrest all this from Harry.

birds, For the. 1 - 781 sic passim

Of all the things Mummers has ever done to me, I will never, *ever* forgive her this one.

Oh my heavens, no.

As of this morning, I have been recruited -- in the midst of my busy season -- to be, basically (making a long description and explanation short), her typist; my Mommy fired the person who was helping her because she did not like something they did and is trying to prove something to Whomever, and I've been temporarily conscripted. And, of course, I am being paid Not One Red Cent for this.

Screw bastards; everybody's a total fucker. Srsly.

Bonus points for title's reference. Triple bonus points for finding all the things I am doing to Mummers' shit. I'm expecting most will survive once it's done. I mean, freaking *prove* that Fleegle, Bingo, Drooper, and Snork (1970) did not say half the things I say they did in a defunct journal.

In a foreign language.

At the moment, I am leaning towards Esperanto.

I'm betting no one will look that closely. Heh. Plus, I hear that they were quite prolific authors, and held opinion -- both expert and peer-reviewed -- on many varied topics. As did Momary, Douglas; Jo, Emmy; Hepo, Henrietta; Fraug, Frederic; and Aul, Charles (1977) in their monumental work, Review of the Zoological Neo-Garden. Far, far more interesting than the drivel Mummers is yammering on about.

Damn, I crack me the hell up.

Okay, okay...I am not *that* bad. But seriously, I AM stressing now. I do not need this. I get this, however, 'cos I am the most 'available' of her children, and she needs 'just a little help'. And yeah, I know -- I am the only one who laughs at my jokes. :-)

Sigh. I may not get to sleep again until like, March. She thinks things will change by Friday and she will get her way, but I do not believe her. Let us hope.

Double bonus points for...well, you know.

I want a nickel a word, or something. Fuckers.

bwaah.

.

Happy Birthday, Harry

Sigh. You annoy me sometimes, but overall you are a good person. Fundamentally, I mean.

I am in seminar with my HoD right now, and I just adore this guy, but he is inclined to give the same lecture over and over. Pretty much any time he speaks. :-) He is cute. One just acclimates to these things.

Butsoanyway.

Job 2 is suffering from the delusion that I am supposed to be there today, when I have a set schedule that leaves Fridays for class, two grant meetings, a lab meeting, tiny break, and then Eviljob. Last night I was simply infuriated, so much so that I could not sleep; one of our contracts has provided explicit details and their accoutrements. Basically, we are just Blindly Following Directions. Period. Well, I finished my part, and at our State of the Workgroup meeting yesterday was asked why I had not done This, That, and The Other. Well, okay; specifically, I was asked why I had not done one thing...which involved, essentially, breaking the seal on a group of data which were to be utilised later. At this time, we are supposed to be unaware of its contents. I brought up the point that I just mentioned, and was told that I could have prepared coding of the events, regardless.

Ummm...not without *looking* at it. And we have been asked -- no, paid in fact --to *not* look at this stage. At this point, we are attempting to replicate and explain the heuristically-based judgements of accepted 'experts' in a quantifiable manner. To do this, we proceed according to our constructs and so forth, and compare our results with theirs...afterwards. I have a problem with pretending I have not seen things just so I can save myself a handful of hours' work in a week of two. The reason, ultimately, for the upset was the ginormous and ' spensive coding suite we just bought; it comes with tutoring, and my superior was wanting to hit up the trainer for help. As in getting the tutor to do this as a part of his demonstration.

Why do I invariably end up surrounded by freaks?

I should put a sock in it before I say too much, but...I am annoyed. Or was, rather; I am fine now. Yesterday, Kate said that I am 'far too ethical and conscientious, blah, blah, blah...'; she meant it as a compliment, but it only served to further agitate me, as if her comparison meant that some less-conscientious Other would manage to be more successful in this situation. And I do know that is completely not how she meant it, but...that is the frame of mind I was in at the time, so I left upset. And figured that They can handle whatever happens today, 'cos we have crap that has to get out on Monday. But I blew off my HoD last week, and I won't do it again; Kate just IMed, and *nothing* is being done -- she just left to take something to her child's school. Sigh. Every day is a new emergency.

Butsoanyway.

On a better note, I got in a bunch of new toys at Job 2, and that was exciting. :-) I also got to talk with Karen, and god, that was a welcome conversation. She phoned to wish me a happy New Year (poor semi-sabra changed to a program where she is lacking in non-committed half-jew company), and to let me know that she had successfully transitioned to a different advisor after the one she left our program for up-and-moved...to farking New Zealand, or wherever. Poor Karen, but it is all okay now.

Oh! And!



Freaking awesome.

And since I am on You Tube, it was either Karen or Baby Bat who sent this a bit back:



Stuck in my head. Geez. :-) I even made up a song for Rhett Butler based on it:

Did you ever see a Butler's Butler kiss a Butler on the Butler
Butler, Butler, Butler, Butler
Butler, Butler, Squoosh!
(or 'Cook', if Cookie is nearby instead of Squoosh)
Here's a Butler, and a Butler, and another little Butler
Oh, no it's all the same Butler,
He's a porky cat.

Oh, shush. Rhett likes his song. :-)

I have to pack up and switch rooms in a bit...I would love to say I will be able to post again today (or at least get up some of the post drafts I have!), but I will see how it goes.

Enjoy the Holiday Season!


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