dammmmmmmmmn.
so i wake up on a saturday, hungover as all hell, only to see this thread has morphed into a critical review of kath. hair of the dog, i guess.
first off, thanks for the kind words to the folk who gave em out. (i even appreciate the words that were kind in a qualified, wrong-handed, backdoor sort of way. i'm easy.)
as for the rest, let's recap, shall we?
kath...
~~should relocate to myspace
~~has made a misstep or two, but nothing crucifixion-worthy
~~needs to werk on her 2nd-4th grade spellin
~~should stop fucquin and give the goods
~~has a joe fetish that is the biggest WTF in obner history, bar none (great googly moogly)
~~looks suspiciously daystarry
~~waxes gushy, loquacious, and cutesy-phrased
~~shares too much, in giddy and effusive ways
~~is a really wordy and wannabe-clever poster who's very very lonely
to which i, being of mouthy mind, must respond.
1. crap i don't mind and never have: any stylistic commentary having to do with my overendowed, welsh-cajun yap. that takes care of most of the flak: being wordy, gushy, effusive, over-sharing, et alia.
2. crap part deux: spelling and all else that would fall under the grammar-nazi category. i luvv language. i luvvv fucquin with language. i luvvv fondling, goosing, even frenching language. there was a time when i would get into bloody brawls with folk who cared wayyyy too much about that crap. i'm sure ye know the type: people who think their sense of "fitting" lingo somehow makes them superior judges of others in the brain department (e.g., deliberately misspelling the word "fucquin" means you've got a second grade intellect.) mind ye, the folk i fought with were paid to edit, as was i. what's even more laughable than those jerkdrips are the self-appointed, unsolicited wannabe editors, especially online. on a music board. (delusions of grand-mal, anyone?)
i don't fret about it anymore. i have my hooked-on-phonics phun however i want. if some folk don't wanna go for the ride or feel like shooting out my tires, more power to em. they can go take a long fucquin walk off a short fucquin pier, just for me.
3. the questionnaire. judging from this thread, i hafta assume it's one of my missteps. silly moi. (maybe i *will* pm daystar. see if she wants one of my liquor-laced walkin tours of the quarter. i can protect her jugular from the local lions well enough. i have witchy wonder-twin powers.) anyway, never fear, obnerites~~the point is taken. lord knows i wouldn't wanna make any more missteps when my reputation here is so very untarnished. coughcough.
4. i *do* know how out-of-place i am here. i've admitted it from the beginning. i am much more likely to spin zep, prog, the allmans, or robert johnson than i am the wrens, the fuck buttons, the drive-by truckers or wilco. (ok, so i'm not entirely lost in the past... i like NIN, super furry animals, the white stripes, etc.)
being so out-of-place is the primary appeal for me. it's true. for those already riding my luvly yet ample ass, rest assured... the appeal will probably wear off, in relation to how stale or uncreative the riding gets. as ye might imagine, i talk online at many places. (my mouth needs the extra space.) in the end, i am quite sure that obner and i will both survive merrily without each other, if that be the case.
the moral? c'est la fucquin vie.
luv and fucquefucquefucquityfucque,
kath
p.s. oh, yeah. almost forgot.
out of that critical list above, there *is* one (1) thing that bothers me. and it's one word.
that word is cutesy.
i don't think i've ever been called cutesy my entire life, by anyone, anywhere. cutesy makes me almost as mad as kath-y does. that's enough right there to make me flounce off in a huff, to go a-puking at the inherent adhominemmy injustice in life.
cutesy.
why don't ya just hit below the ovaries next time, fucquepimple?
(slams keyboard down, stomps out of room muttering obscenities, heads for stash..)
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