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You're reading an old entry from Michelle "Lexi Kahn" DiPoala's online diary, formerly called Jungle Sweet Jungle. Blog name changed to Low Budget Superhero in October 2005. Now I mostly go by SuperLowBudge. You can call me Lexi, Michelle or SuperLowBudge, or if you're my mom, then Shelly. Enjoy these old posts (except if you're my mom.) Please follow on Blogger at superlowbudge.blogspot.com. From there you can follow me on Twitter and some other platforms. Thanks!



Stop Pissing Me Off

(December 12, 2001)

Just some general rules.

If you don't want my opinion, don't ask me for it. If you ask me what I think, understand in advance that I will tell you exactly what I am actually thinking, not what you want to hear. Gentle responses like "it's not my thing" and "it looks good on YOU" are very common. Please internalize what I mean. Do not offer me any of whatever it is.

Before insisting that I check out some sale at so-and-so store, take a look at what I am wearing for a general idea of what I'm going to like. You are holding up your cheap knock-off sneakered red white and blue foot and insisting I simply MUST go get a pair, because they're two-for-one at Dorky's. I don't care if they're two for one. I don't even want ONE, let alone two. Have you ever seen me wear sneakers? Have you ever seen me wear primary colors, even? That goes for anything with little cartoon animals on it. Or flowers. Flora or fauna of any kind, basically. Thank you.

When you're walking out of a public bathroom that has four stalls, three sinks and a bathroom, don't halt up short and gasp "Oh!" in shocked surprise when you meet me coming in the door. It's a public bathroom, not your bedroom at home. People go in and out all day. You look like an idiot.

If we are both walking down the hallway and we say "hey, how's it going" to each other, don't stop walking. Because I'm not going to stop walking and you'll just feel stupid. I simply said, "hi." It's not request to camp out on the carpet and have you explain the lesser known details of your husband's skin condition. I got work to do.

Do you have to wear the whooshy jogging suits to work? You sit next to me and all I hear all fuckin' day is sssshhhhhppppp. Fffffffffffsssshhhhhh. And when you walk away: whoop shh, whoop shh, whoop shh, whoop shh. What the fuck. Get quieter loungewear.

And by the way, when you douse your head in the Final Net or whatever the hell that noxious stiff-head spray is, can you do it in the bathroom, do ya think?

Thank you. That is all.

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