A rant by any other name is still a rant so if you’re not in the mood to read mine today then don’t pardon my French when tell you that you can royally fuck off!
To the brass tacks then..... I hate people who invite themselves over to my place, in fact I bloody well hate visitors in general. They never know when to leave and I have to sit there and laugh politely at their god-awful jokes while all the time formulating in my head the best way to skewer them then pit-roast them over an open fire. ( Of course this definitely excludes you T-baby and S-luv) But that was just a by the by.
So apparently I am a really bad communicator. Which is really ironic because when I applied for the torture that masquerades as higher education I ticked communication to the masses next to the little box that said choose course (apparently I also don’t do to well with fine print when I don’t have my glasses on). That having been declared, it then goes without saying that these phone gadgets are simply not my forte, especially when it comes to text messaging. I am sick and tired or people giving me grief about not answering their meaningless text messages.
Here’s the thing, when you send me an SMS and I don’t reply it, it doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t like you (Though I probably don’t) or that you’re an insignificant little twit who doesn’t mean shit to me (Though you probably are), it just means I simply couldn’t be bothered wasting my time typing words on a miniscule keypad taking care to omit the vowels in order to make sure there are only 160 characters. And in case you have a problem with that then by all means pick a number and join the queue because I hate to break it to you, you are not the only one! And if symptoms persist, form a tribunal and take it to the bloody Hague!
Golden - Jill Scott
Golden - Chrisette Michele
Knowing God – Deepak Chopra
On my wall:
Starry night - Vincent Van Gogh