So today is the third freaking birthday in a row without so much as a 
freaking birthday freaking card in the freaking mail.  Happy Freaking 
Birthday to me.

OK, I'm not especially upset.  There are freaking people who have real 
freaking problems.  (And, sure, I may be one of them, but freaking 
birthdays are pretty freaking low on the freaking list.)

And, actually, it's not entirely true.  I actually got three 
e-cards--one from my sister, one from my freaking Allstate agent, and 
one from freaking Mensa.  And two of the freaking three can kiss my 
freaking butt.

Ya know, I was just reading the freaking POV general board, and there's 
this freaking person who keeps posting these freaking messages, like, 
"Oh, I don't know very much about POV, but I can't do this stuff, 
because I don't know very much about math either" and I keep having this 
overwhelming desire to respond with something like, "Read the freaking 
manual," or "Read a freaking math book" or maybe even "Turn your 
freaking hat around, pull up your freaking pants, and get a freaking 
job."  Now, that's not my usual freaking reaction to freaking newbies. 
My usual freaking reaction to freaking newbies is more like, "Oh, hello, 
I'm the evangelist of POV--bless you, my child--try this."  And even if 
it's freaking irrelevant, or even freaking wrong, I don't have this 
freaking desire to slap the freaking crap out of the freaking newbie, 
and then freaking slap him for freaking crapping.

I have this horrible fear that I've become a bitter old woman.  And, 
just possibly, a crazy cat lady.  Should I seek counseling?

All help appreciated!

--Sherry "Just Wondering" Shaw


-- 
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1;#end camera{location-5*z}plane{z,37 pigment{granite color_map{[.7rgb 0]
[1rgb 1]}}finish{ambient 2}}//                                   TenMoons

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