[click image]...
I took one of those who-is-your-candidate? quizzes the other day, just to piss myself off more, and they broke me down according to percentage of agreement points. They said Jill Stein was my candidate with 72% agreement on the issues. Pfeh.
Not.
It is not unreasonable to demand an at least 95% agreement rate on one's vote for president. Seriously! Our lives depend on this stuff... when a president is an actual president, as opposed to a mere spokesmodel.
Vote for me tomorrow. I'm your best bet. I won't wuss out. I'll fix everything.
...
Dudes, there was a bureaucratic butcher job waiting out there in my post office box today, and I don't think I'm going to be able to retain my serenity in the face of one of those if I live to be five hundred years old. I do not have this problem with any other thing except my car breaking down. I am an ace at this shit when I'm dealing with it on someone else's behalf, but for myself? Not on your life. My neurotransmitters turn instantaneously into neon, the split second that crap breaks on my shores.
I was almost late to the eye doctor because I had to melt down for a few minutes first. I had to smoke three cigarettes in a row. I didn't kill anyone at the bank. I was the very portrait of affability. I didn't kill my insurance agent. I think I even talked him into keeping the wood burning stove instead of going all anal businesslike over the integrity of the whiteness on his walls.
To top everything, the reason I thought I was going so blind is that I'd put in my emergency contact lenses. They were from two prescriptions ago. So. Of course, my vision would suddenly look like it was time for a guide dog....
Crikey.
.
