Excuse me, Mr. Internet?
(See, this whole thing is new to me! So I get excited at search terms that find this little place! Odd ways folks got here will prolly be a posting point for quite awhile, awfully sorry. But I am boggled!)
Unless…..maybe I’ve been……. GoogleWhacked !
I despise Hardee’s. I’ve never liked their food. The whole having to put my own stuff on my own burger turned me off at the outset. If I wanted to make my own burger, I would, okay? (And it would possibly be better than the microwaved horse-flesh. Maybe.) But now I can say I truly hate them. Hardee’s television advertisements are disgusting, degrading, repugnant and offensive. And that’s just the video of the burgers! Ha! No, really. It’s all just plain gross and very, very stupid. I cannot understand any member of any sex not being offended by these ads. And I swear, I am not a humorless prude. But the fact is, some sweaty swarthy guy in sales actually thinks that a girl riding a mechicanical bull whilst stuffing her fist, 3 million straws and a greasy burger into her mouth while dirty fat guys ride around her in badly tuned pickups will sell a billion nasty heart-attack specials. This is not funny to me. Sorry, folks, it just ain’t. And it probably will sell a billion.
On a side note………two poor, lost souls actually got here by google-ing “old person smell”. The poor, poor dears. I am pretty sure that whatever they wanted to find is not here. How many hits do you think I’ll get for Hardees? Hee!
You know, I don’t like it when someone implys I am dishonest. No, allow me to re-phrase that. I really don’t like it when someone implys I am dishonest. In fact, it makes me very, very angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry. Mrsatroxi smash.
You see, the darling husband and I are attempting to sell two autos on ebay. (It is for a noble cause, namely, my parents. They birthed me, therefore they are noble.) I wrote the descriptions, based on information from my folks. (Who, remember, are noble.) These descriptions are factual. They are not gilded, specious, or sweetened in any way. So when I receive an e-mail from someone implying I have lied, (”IF this is true” etc.,) it does not a happy mrsatroxi make. The writing of a reply consisting of a questioning of their parentage and a physically impossible suggestion was my very first inclination. But you see, gentle readers, I am a lady. So those things I did not do. First, I took several deep breaths. Then, I pondered some very wise advice from my Father, (given to me as a small, teased, child) namely, consider the source. So consider the source I did. This individual had, although attempting to besmirch my character, also asked four of the most inane and stupid questions I have ever had the misfortune to read. Why were they stupid? Because they were all answered in the description I had written. So I wrote a very polite reply suggesting he/she/it read the information I had posted. And if that didn’t help them out, neither would I. That accomplished, I pondered more very wise advice, this time from my Mother, consisting of the following: if someone should accuse you of something with no cause, chances are it is something that they themselves are doing. To wit, he/she/it implys I am dishonest because they themselves are, as that is the only thought process conceivable to them. End result? This person will soon be banned from bidding on the car. Take that, bitch.
Lesson of the day? I DO NOT LIE. So don’t you ever accuse me of falsehood. That’s all.
On another tack, I must admit I am confused about grown people and their use of the word “cute”. For me, the word conjures up images of things infant and the color pink. (And, I must admit, summers of 12 years ago or so when crushes ran high and any semi-attractive boy was know as that word.) So since the word makes me think of fuchsia kittens, I would never use it to describe myself, my house, my car or really anything at all. (Other than, you know, the pink babies.) But many people I come into contact with use “cute” for everything. Old folks are cute, trees are cute, lamps are cute, and (the ultimate insult) my house is cute. My house is not cute! Neither are trees! I just plan old don’t get it. Oh well. I do know one thing. If anybody comments and says my site is cute, I’m coming looking for them.