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Someone may soon need to revoke my access to LJ for a while, because so help me, I'm sorely tempted to go on a tri-state killing spree, clad in nothing by my underwear and cutting a bloody swath through my fellow man with a double-bladed hand axe. Away I'll roll, inspiring terror and inciting fetishist lust as my pendulous, National Geographic breasts jiggle with every downward stroke.
What has inspired my unreasoning wrath? Damned if I know, but lately, as I trawl the vast expanse of LJ in search of interesting pontifications, funny quips, good fic, cool icons, or amusing anecdotes, I have been seized with the urge to reach through the screen, wrap my scrawny fingers around unseen throats, and squeeze until the whinging soliliquies of entitlement and self-generated angst fall mercifully silent. In the past few days, I have had the following responses to entries I have seen. It should be noted that I have not voiced these responses to the respective parties, and none of the entries were on my flist:
Stop with the passive-aggressive whining. It's not going to prompt me to dig more deeply into my pockets, nor is it going to generate sympathy from anyone with two neurons to rub together. If anything, it makes you look like a screaming drama queen.
The sun does not shine out of your son's ass. I don't care that he can recognize Mozart, nor do I care that he likes art. The fact that he's three and still in diapers, however, worries me. Less time on Beethoven, more time on visiting the church on Porcelain Road.
Writing your brother's term paper for him is plagiarism, and you're a moron for only charging ten dollars for something that could result in expulsion. If you're going to sell your integrity, at least get a good price, you dolt. I hope he gets busted.
I have no idea why I'm having such venomous thoughts of late. Maybe it's because the vast majority of recent posts have been paeans of self-pity, and very few have been as hilarious as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katsudon's tale of toilet warfare or helenish's Revlon complaint letter poetry. It's all doom and gloom and unceasing woe, and it's tiresome. Whatever happened to the good ole days, when LJ was a repository of smut and fun and wet dreams about your hunk or hunkette du jour? LJ has gone from the exuberance of acne-riddled youth to the garrulous, get-off-my-lawn-listen-to-my-litany-of-complaints cynicism of the colostomy bag and Polident years, and it's sad.
( Odd NCIS Dream )
Then I woke up. It was very unsettling, but strangely gratifying, like watching a good movie.
There will be an ETA of my progress in the Guera Academic Sextathlon and SLS51 later.
ETA: Guera Academic Sextathlon: 4/6 papers completed.
SLS51 Word Count: 6,010 and climbing
ETA 2: SLS51 Word Count: 7,209
What has inspired my unreasoning wrath? Damned if I know, but lately, as I trawl the vast expanse of LJ in search of interesting pontifications, funny quips, good fic, cool icons, or amusing anecdotes, I have been seized with the urge to reach through the screen, wrap my scrawny fingers around unseen throats, and squeeze until the whinging soliliquies of entitlement and self-generated angst fall mercifully silent. In the past few days, I have had the following responses to entries I have seen. It should be noted that I have not voiced these responses to the respective parties, and none of the entries were on my flist:
Stop with the passive-aggressive whining. It's not going to prompt me to dig more deeply into my pockets, nor is it going to generate sympathy from anyone with two neurons to rub together. If anything, it makes you look like a screaming drama queen.
The sun does not shine out of your son's ass. I don't care that he can recognize Mozart, nor do I care that he likes art. The fact that he's three and still in diapers, however, worries me. Less time on Beethoven, more time on visiting the church on Porcelain Road.
Writing your brother's term paper for him is plagiarism, and you're a moron for only charging ten dollars for something that could result in expulsion. If you're going to sell your integrity, at least get a good price, you dolt. I hope he gets busted.
I have no idea why I'm having such venomous thoughts of late. Maybe it's because the vast majority of recent posts have been paeans of self-pity, and very few have been as hilarious as
katsudon's tale of toilet warfare or helenish's Revlon complaint letter poetry. It's all doom and gloom and unceasing woe, and it's tiresome. Whatever happened to the good ole days, when LJ was a repository of smut and fun and wet dreams about your hunk or hunkette du jour? LJ has gone from the exuberance of acne-riddled youth to the garrulous, get-off-my-lawn-listen-to-my-litany-of-complaints cynicism of the colostomy bag and Polident years, and it's sad.( Odd NCIS Dream )
Then I woke up. It was very unsettling, but strangely gratifying, like watching a good movie.
There will be an ETA of my progress in the Guera Academic Sextathlon and SLS51 later.
ETA: Guera Academic Sextathlon: 4/6 papers completed.
SLS51 Word Count: 6,010 and climbing
ETA 2: SLS51 Word Count: 7,209