Stuff That Sucks
So in the aftermath of the truly staggeringly awful earthquake in Haiti*, Dr. Ding would like to share with you a list of things that also suck wrinkly donkey balls at 500+ psi. Why? Because I haven’t had coffee or Tab The All-Occasion Beverage in almost 2 weeks, nor red meat, alcohol, butter, cheese, sugar, salt, citrus, or wheat.
I’m still crabby as hell, still mud-brained, still attempting to summon phantasmogorical British monkey butlers to cart my tired ass away from the horrid clouds of flatus that seem to follow me wherever I go. For awhile last week there I was being chased by a giant all-knowing eyeball, but that seems to have slacked off a litle.
I’m definitely having First World problems. Deal.
1. Pat Roberston. What a tool. Last I checked, Jesus wasn’t into blaming the victim.
2. The fact that I can’t think of a more descriptive term than “tool” with which to label Pat Robertson.
3. Shitty grammar. The world is definitely getting dumb and dumberer.
4. Rue McClanahan having a stroke. Be strong, Rue! The world needs more sexy, sassy 75 year-olds.
5. I’m out of ideas already. Where was I going with this post again?
I think we can all agree: that’s enough.
* Information on how to help:
Yele Haiti: http://www.yele.org/
Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org/
Doctors Without Borders: http://doctorswithoutborders.org/
I hear ya! I just feel like everything going on around me is a little less important than moms who can’t find their children in the rubble of what was their home in Haiti. The purple clogs I was gonna look for online today… seems just… well… kindof mute and lame. Oh… and all I want to do is cry… which doesn’t really work at client meetings… sigh… and sniff… where is the tissue.
I thought you were only on a 4 day cleanse or something. When does the torture end? Is this a changing your way of life thing? What the hell? How do you propose to medicate those who are having hysterical visions of their own when you can’t tell if they’re actually seeing something or you’re seeing the same crap they are?
Pat Robertson is an Old Testament douche-bag made out of camel bladders and bacteria.
Is the modifier “camel bladders and bacteria” describing said douche-bag or Pat Robertson? Yes. There’s my grammar ambiguity for the day, motherfuckers.
Oh, and I’m not trying to derail your discipline…but these wholesale alimental reigns of terror on your body seem like punishment. At the great risk of sounding all self-actualized and shit AND preaching to she-who-wears-the-therapeutic-tiara, don’t you think body love (which does not mean cramming moon pies into our respective pie holes whenever they whimper) would lead to a kinder, gentler, healthier end? Unless of course, you like Diet Boot Camp…
There must be some Monkey Butler strike we don’t know about because I have attempted to summon one on several occasions lately only to be disappointed.
Sometimes “tool” is apt.