Which one of you wankers put me on David Virtue’s email “Give Me Cashy Monies in Excess of Your Parish’s Entire Annual Budget So’s I Can Go to Lambeth Pretty Pwease” list?!
It’s addressed to “Readers of Virtue Online”. Yeah, um, that’s SO not me. I rather like my blood pressure not spiking into insta-aneurysim territory, ta muchly. Plus I don’t think even my steel-reinforced Handbag straps would hold up after even the briefest of sojurns there.
I did reply to his “Please Give Me Cashy Monies in Excess of Your Parish’s Entire Annual Budget So’s I Can Go to Lambeth Pretty Pwease” email.
My reply in its entirety:”How the ever-loving bloody hell did I get on your mailing list and take me off right now.”
ETA 9:30pm AAAAAAH! HE DOUBLE-SENT IT! SPAMITY SPAM SPAM SPAM! DAVID VIRTUE IS A SPAMMER!
EATA 3/21: By the by, it was to my private email address, one which I purposely do NOT use to comment on blogs (not that I’ve ever commented on any of *those* blogs anyway) and is not linked to this site. So someone had to have put me on there.
*looks at site meter*
I did NOT just get 122 hits for various permutations of phrase “What should I wear for Easter?”
Let me clear that up for you right now: CLOTHES.
(Unless you go to a nudist church)
Lessee, what have I done in the last seven days?
1) Turned in notice at the Big Blue Box (Job#2). My last day will be March 30th (which means that’s also my last day of health coverage). I cited concerns for my health, which has tanked since I began working 50-60 hours a week. They may be called ‘angel kisses’, but spontaneous bruising caused by low iron levels in your blood is NOT. FUN.
2) Was informed by Job#1 that they hired someone else for the position they asked me to come back and temp in, you know, the job I’ve been doing for three months now. They want me to stick around, though, benefits-free, “until at least July”.
3) Contracted viral strep throat. Yeah. That’s the kind of fun that’s not.
4) Learned that my dear friend has finally
got off his ass and purchased plane tickets. He’ll be flying to NYC on Easter Sunday and leaving a few weeks later for Africa.
So, you know, I’ve got nothing going on, except my entire world being flipped upside down and I now have to make decisions about what career path to follow and whether or not I should remain in Portland.
If anyone recognizes this freakout, it’s ’cause I am in the exact same place as I was last year.
Dear Mister (yes, MISTER) Pro-Life Blogger:
Not that it’s any of your feklaptin’ business, but I take birth control pills. Yes, me, the celibate one over here. I take them to better regulate the hormones in my body, and without them I will bleed for about two weeks out of every three and have to go to the hospital for blood transfusions. Funny thing, it’s entirely possible that I have the exact same condition as the woman you’ve probably read about in Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, and Luke 8:43-47.
If you don’t have insurance (like I won’t after March 30th), these pills cost $145 a month. I wouldn’t even try to convince a Catholic clinic to write me a script. Planned Parenthood, the only women’s health clinic with no income restrictions? $39 a month. And the added bonus of having to look at dead babies and be called a whore by my coreligionists as I go in to pick up my script!
Would you shut your trap, please? You’re making all us Christians look like jackasses.
In Christian Love,
Pisco, with his request for some Portuguese rap (which I haven’t gotten around to sending his way yet, mea culpa) left the 666th comment on my blog.
‘Cause I’m feeling rather fragile and far from home and honest to God, Black Friday Rule just rolled up on the iPod, hit next QUICKLY now, because that song is all about leaving home and being depressed…
…oh dear Lord, next up is Elliot Smith. What is this, the Playlist for Enhanced Moping?
Hanyoldway, I’m wearing my grandfather’s ring on a chain around my neck, and I’m declaring today to be Blogfeeds Amnesty Day. I’m going to go read The Wizard of Oz instead.
See you guys when I’m feeling stronger.
But before I leave, a little Flogging Molly lyrics for you all:
Terrified of the open road
Yeah, where it leads ya never know.
But rest assured he`ll be on you back,
Yeah, the Holy Ghost through his tounges in black.
As the band dog howls, and the young girl cries,
The blessed virgin in her proud dad`s eye.
The albatross hangin’ round your neck
Is the cross you bear, for your sins he bleeds.
Rebels are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be.
Ah, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep,
We`re the Rebels of the Sacred Heart.
I said no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We`re the Rebels of the Sacred Heart.
Next person to follow up my answer to “Why are you limping?” with “You’re too young to have arthritis!” is going to get kicked.
Tomorrow. Since I can’t swing my leg that high and my knee’s not bending.
(For the record, I’ve had arthritis in my hands since I was 13, in my shoulders since I was 15, and in my knees and hips since I was 16.)