Archive for August, 2007
Dear Everyone and their Little Pony and especially Belkin and Linksys,
I am so sick of all the “help” being offered to me in the form of crappy little specialty programs. All I want is a device driver. A driver that will tell my computer how to talk to your little piece of hardware. I do not need an interface with pretty colors and rounded corners and attractive buttons, that hides away all the “complicated” stuff and makes it so that it takes me 30 times longer than it should to make your specialty extra wonderful whiz bang wireless card work with MY network setup.
The OS already has an interface to deal with wireless networking. Don’t disable it and make me use your bloated piece of shit instead, I do not care how many shades of blue you can use to decorate the UI.
Dear Microsoft Office Product Team,
While you are busy imagining what new features I will never ever want out of Office suite, you might want to consider actually making it, I don’t know, IMPORT my settings from previous Office products when I “upgrade”. Word is essentially unusable out of the box for me. It is impressive that you have managed to turn one of your few functional products into a piece of shit with all those helpful features.
If you really want to help, make sure the next version you release auto-composes and sends a hate letter from me to you or one of the other Microsoft groups at least once a month.
Congratulations on making Office 2007 the upgrade to avoid of the decade. Enjoy your trophy.
The fact that a few people have chosen to place content that I really want to see in QuickTime format means that I do have QT installed on my computer and I do need updates on occasion. It in no way at all means that I ever ever EVER want you to install iTunes on my computer, so stop trying. It also does not mean that I want you to autosneak in the association of every fricken type of multimedia file with your program. The only thing I ever want to use QT for are the things I cannot access any other way. Fixing your helpful changes to my associations took up far more time than you are worth.
Sincerely wishing you a crap day,
The AC repair boy is here (finally). He speaks with a heavy (Russian?) accent.
Him: So, what is wrong?
Me: It does not blow cold air, and when I came to look (gesture toward the furnace/blower portion in the garage) it was dripping water all over the place. I’ve used a fan to dry it but you see the entire enclosure has water damage marks.
Him: So, what is the problem?
Him: What is the problem? Is the problem that it is not cold, or is the problem that it is leaking?
Me: They are BOTH problems. I need my house to be cold, and the garage should not be flooded.
I am overweight according to medical professionals, our government, the fashion industry, the media, and society in general. Sometimes more so, sometimes less so. I am curvy. I am soft. I have flesh covering all my bones. If you ever see me with a small ass or any bones poking out, assume that I am ill.
I am fat because of genetics, lifestyle, emotional issues, psychological issues, medical issues and personal history to varying degrees. These are my business. I do not need to justify or explain to you which one is the current primary factor.
Sometimes I am even fatter because of genetics, lifestyle, emotional issues, psychological issues, medical issues and personal history to varying degrees. These are my business. I do not need to justify or explain to you which one is the current primary factor.
Sometimes I lose a chunk of weight because of genetics, lifestyle, emotional issues, psychological issues, medical issues and personal history to varying degrees. These are my business. I do not need to justify or explain to you which one is the current primary factor.
I FUCKING HATE TO TALK ABOUT IT. There are a teeny tiny number of people on the planet I do not mind talking about it with, and chances are, you are not one of them.
I am not saying that I am embarrassed about being fat. I am fat. I am okay with that. I am just beyond mother fucking tired of the concept that there is some value placed on the number of pounds or the number of lumps or the amount of jiggle. If the only thing that interests a person about me is the way I look, I really wish they would Go. The. Fuck. Away. It just isn’t that fucking high up on the importance scale for me, and I would rather converse with somebody that I have more interests in common with.
The fact that acquaintances will stop to gush if I happen to be on a downward trend is to my ears unwanted, uncomplimentary and actually RUDE. I do not care if you think I look good. I do not care if you don’t understand that saying *that* is the same as saying that you used to think I looked bad. The fact that we live in a society that has it shoved up their ass that “you look like you’ve lost weight” is a compliment does not excuse you in my mind. I live in the same society and my brain can still think for its fucking self. Statistics show that whatever I drop I will most likely pick up again. What goes down, most likely will go up. If you only like me when I am less fat, you might as well go away now, because I AM FAT.
Let’s not even hide behind the concern for my health bullshit. The fact of the matter is that I am usually HEALTHIEST at a “sweet spot” in the middle of my (very large) low and high range. As in that is the spot where my blood tests and blood pressure are at their supposed medical best. When I am lower and getting all the compliments is when my blood pressure is at the worst and my cholesterol levels are highest, yes, higher than when I am my fattest. I don’t give a fuck whether or not you believe me. I have to get blood tests regularly, so I know.
I do not lose weight to impress you. I do not gain weight to disgust you. I do not care which side of your personal “acceptable weight” line I am hanging out on. “Oh, YOU’RE not fat!” is not a compliment to me, no matter what some stupid talk show taught you. You might be shocked at just how tiny a shit I give about your opinion of my looks and politically correct concerns about my “health”. It is so small, calling it a fart would still be an exaggeration.
I am not “fat and proud”. I am not “fat and embarrassed”. I am fat.