The Famewhore Squirrel Welcomes Motherfuckers to Sarcastic Bastard. It's not easy being THE SPOKESWHORE OF AMERICA, but sometimes a bitch has got to sacrifice!
SARCASTIC BASTARD BLOG
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
More Shit SB Says
People want to fit in. Don't ask me why. They want to feel part of a group, even if it's an ignorant group, like the republican party.
I'm going to start a fundraising campaign to get you some assertiveness training, honey. You just don't know how to say what you mean.
Kidding aside, how can you be southern? When I go home I immediately have to remember to listen for what people really mean. For instance: "Don't you need to go to the store?" Me: "No I'm good." Her: "I thought you'd probably want to go to the store." Me: "We just drove 13 hours and passed 70,000 stores, we really don't need a thing." Her: But I thought you might need to go to the store and get the skim milk your husband insists on having even though I don't know how anyone can stand to even look at that stuff let alone drink it."
This is the condensed version. It generally takes several hours to get to that last sentence. Compris? I bet you do.
My Dear Glimmer & Ms. Moon, I have southern ancestry, and trust me they are much more "delicate" people than I am. And, yes, I do understand, dear Glimmer.
And, ironically, MS. MOON, my Mississippi family were/are Baptists. Laugh. My family founded the first Baptist church in Ohio. Don't blame me--Mom and Daddums raises us Methodist and then got pissed off at the families who were running the church and left in a huff.
That's what I admire the most about churches. The warring and infighting and the leaving in a huff.
I was raised in the church that considered everyone else a heathen. The Church of Christ, which believes even the pope is going to hell. Which actually makes it my naughty husband's favorite denomination. But not enough to make him go, of course.
I am a Gen-X, lazy, manic-depressive bastard, with an eating disorder, OCD, and a propensity for alcoholism. I am basically hell to live with, but I enjoy red wine, Ritalin, reality TV, and disdainful cats. This description could also be useful as a personal ad for a dating service.
6 comments:
I'm going to start a fundraising campaign to get you some assertiveness training, honey. You just don't know how to say what you mean.
Kidding aside, how can you be southern? When I go home I immediately have to remember to listen for what people really mean. For instance: "Don't you need to go to the store?" Me: "No I'm good." Her: "I thought you'd probably want to go to the store." Me: "We just drove 13 hours and passed 70,000 stores, we really don't need a thing." Her: But I thought you might need to go to the store and get the skim milk your husband insists on having even though I don't know how anyone can stand to even look at that stuff let alone drink it."
This is the condensed version. It generally takes several hours to get to that last sentence. Compris? I bet you do.
Love, Glim
Or the Baptist church.
My Dear Glimmer & Ms. Moon,
I have southern ancestry, and trust me they are much more "delicate" people than I am.
And, yes, I do understand, dear Glimmer.
And, ironically, MS. MOON, my Mississippi family were/are Baptists. Laugh. My family founded the first Baptist church in Ohio. Don't blame me--Mom and Daddums raises us Methodist and then got pissed off at the families who were running the church and left in a huff.
Love you both, you two Southern Belles!
SB
sigh.
That's what I admire the most about churches. The warring and infighting and the leaving in a huff.
I was raised in the church that considered everyone else a heathen. The Church of Christ, which believes even the pope is going to hell. Which actually makes it my naughty husband's favorite denomination. But not enough to make him go, of course.
Love you back!
Glimmer,
My Aunt Tex is a Church of Christer. She is also a whacked-out Amway-er. Jesus.
Love you,
SB.
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