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Since Livejournal is TEH SUCK - and it's cool to be able to bash my blog system without worrying that I'll be impacted in any way beyond what I already am - comments are not being emailed to me.
Anyone else noticing this? Trying to figure out if it's actually LJ that sucks or if there's something wrong with Yahoo. Because god knows, it wouldn't be the first time for either of them.
At any rate, I'll get to them (unless you go comment ninety entries back) but it'll probably be at a pace even slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter.
I missed my bus today. This would upset me a lot more if I didn't think that my job is DOOMED this week.
DOOM.
But! And this is the spiffy part for all you American taxpayers out there. I might actually qualify for unemployment. But I sort of think that my unemployment should be something like Tony Blair and George Bush coming to my door to apologise personally for being right-wing bastards and making the economy suck, and also for having their countries so far apart that I can't live in one and drive to the other. Although, even if I could drive to the other, I couldn't afford the gas to get there because, well, see reason one.
And don't even get me started on those stupid rules about citizenship.
But I think that having them both at my door, so I can slam it in their faces, presents an image that gives me joy and happiness. The only thing that would make it better would be if, in the background, Cheney and Rumsfeld were being used for some of the more "interesting" class of medical experiments while Ashcroft was stuffed headfirst into a chipper shredder.
You know you're going to have a bad day when you try to write something about the VP and the SecDef being molested by some class of livestock that you actually don't like, which rules out goats, and the image sets up this horrible feedback in your brain and you realise that, whatever ill will you may have for the men in question, you do not, o holy mother of god, want to see any part of them naked, ever.
I mean, stick the sporks in RIGHT NOW, FOLKS.
Oh, and GIP! Just for Johnny Ashcroft, follks, just for him.
DOOM.
Anyone else noticing this? Trying to figure out if it's actually LJ that sucks or if there's something wrong with Yahoo. Because god knows, it wouldn't be the first time for either of them.
At any rate, I'll get to them (unless you go comment ninety entries back) but it'll probably be at a pace even slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter.
I missed my bus today. This would upset me a lot more if I didn't think that my job is DOOMED this week.
DOOM.
But! And this is the spiffy part for all you American taxpayers out there. I might actually qualify for unemployment. But I sort of think that my unemployment should be something like Tony Blair and George Bush coming to my door to apologise personally for being right-wing bastards and making the economy suck, and also for having their countries so far apart that I can't live in one and drive to the other. Although, even if I could drive to the other, I couldn't afford the gas to get there because, well, see reason one.
And don't even get me started on those stupid rules about citizenship.
But I think that having them both at my door, so I can slam it in their faces, presents an image that gives me joy and happiness. The only thing that would make it better would be if, in the background, Cheney and Rumsfeld were being used for some of the more "interesting" class of medical experiments while Ashcroft was stuffed headfirst into a chipper shredder.
You know you're going to have a bad day when you try to write something about the VP and the SecDef being molested by some class of livestock that you actually don't like, which rules out goats, and the image sets up this horrible feedback in your brain and you realise that, whatever ill will you may have for the men in question, you do not, o holy mother of god, want to see any part of them naked, ever.
I mean, stick the sporks in RIGHT NOW, FOLKS.
Oh, and GIP! Just for Johnny Ashcroft, follks, just for him.
DOOM.
