To one of the emotionally stunted fuckwits I work around who routinely decides he is mad at someone for something totally stupid and random that no sane person would expect another to get angry about that shuns people for days by not talking to them and being a fucking all-around dickhead: grow the fuck up. You are two years away from being eligible to collect Social Security, not a twelve-year-old boy who just lost at tug rope.
And run-on sentences can fuck off, too.
It's all yours.
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Grading.
Grading can FT Fing F off. I am so sick of grading. And I get one batch done, and then I get another. And some of the student answers to test questions are so TERRIBLE.
It's like a friend of mine tells her students: "Take the test I gave you, not the test I WISH you had given."
So, so many WTF answers to questions they should know.
I teach for free. They pay me to grade.
Stupid tedious boring things that I don't want to do, one after another. Ricki, if it wasn't grading, it'd be something else, believe me.
Amen, Ricki. Same with Freshman Composition papers. It's actually gotten so bad that sometimes I can't bring myself to even get started.
Campus no-weapons policies that do nothing more than endanger everyone on campus can fuck off, as can the shit-for-brains administrators that come up with them. The only thing said policies accomplish is disarm the rule- and law-abiding majority. They do nothing to deter the criminally-minded minority that endanger the rest.
Thank GOD Missouri is considering making it a state law that state colleges and universities may not pass such rules, and overturns the rules already in place.
Not that such would protect me from getting fired should I have to use a weapon to protect my students. I'm not tenured, and most of my co-workers in the English department are retarded, anti-gun, bleeding-heart, emotive, logic-less, brainless liberals.
And those are the ones I'm _fond_ of.
I go nothing today. I'm going deer hunting so I'm in a great mood.
Have a good time, Ken!
Can somebody please explain why there are human beings - grown, educated human beings - who cannot compute the words "I don't know"?
Let me break it down for you:
I - meaning myself. Me.
don't - contraction of the words do and not, implying that the verb that is to follow is something I am incapable of, either by choice or nature.
know - as is knowledge, things that an individual possesses information about.
Asking the same fucking question over and over will not change the answer or magically place what you need to know inside of my brain. When said pieces of information are things that you can easily look up or figure out for yourself, you can fuck off severely for wasting my time.
I. DON'T. KNOW.
FUCK!
Being sick can fuck off. That is all.
Once again, co-workers who refuse to divulge information, then throw me under the bus when they get their ass chewed for not telling me what the fuck they were supposed to have wanted from me, can fuck off with a limburger-encrusted tire iron. Especially when they rip into me - in front of the boss - for doing exactly what they fucking demanded (in equally polite terms) a week ago.
Wasting my entire fucking morning catching up with the above-mentioned co-worker's incompetence can equally fuck off.
Pediatricians who refuse to consider the possibility that a child might require medication for ADHD can fuck off in twelve directions with no fucking coherency whatsoever. I'm several years your senior and I've raised four times as many children as you, you fucking quacklet. Don't patronize me about how if my parenting were better, the kid would be sitting still like a fucking angel. I know the fucking difference between normal-boy energy and all-out hyper-fucking-activity! And I've got the shattered windows, torn-off doors and smashed furniture to prove it. You don't think so, you smug little chippie with initials after your name? YOU turn him loose in your house for a week and see if you aren't ready to fellate a goddamn gun!
Contracts can fuck off.
That is all.
Reorgs can fuck off.
The aide at school who was dressed like a teenager and chose to bug her eyes at me instead of identifying herself while I was talking to her can fuck off.
You made me look bad in front of our student, you beeyotch. I'll bet you get a kick out of being mistaken for a student. You enjoy being the victim. How about you grow up and dress professionally like all the other aides here? The men wear NECKTIES, and you're wearing a stupid boho macrame vest. And how about treating me, your COLLEAGUE, with some sort of decency?
I got so mad I had to step out of the library for a few minutes for some air. I didn't have time to do that, either.
And I don't know how you professors do all that grading. My teacher-librarian hat's off to you.
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