Magic Hate Ball: Will Someone Please Think of The Eskimos?

Dear Magic Hate Ball,

I've always had issues with my weight. I was the chubby kid, the "big-boned" teenager, and the easy fat chick in college. At my worst, I weighed about as much as an adolescent walrus. However, I've lost literally hundreds of pounds due to a strict diet, including gastric bypass sugery followed by a severe case of bulimia. I've successfully kept my weight in the range of 200-215 pounds. I'd like to show off my new slimmer body with low-rise jeans, mini-skirts, halter and tube tops, and other summery type clothing. My family is very against this. They say they are supportive of my dietary choices, and they're proud of my weight loss, but they refuse to support my new fashion sense. How can I tell them that this is what I want without alienating them?

Looking At Reflections Don't Offend

Dear LARDO,

I suppose I'm happy for your dramatic weight loss. After all, the female walrus weighs about 1,900 pounds. That's an incredible loss. How did the surgeons ever reach your stomach to begin with? How many interns were there to hold the fat flaps back? You could have fed an Eskimo community for a week. But let's address your question.

There are a number of factors involved in this: your pride in your weight loss, the opinion of your family, fashion, and public safety. I'm glad that you lost 1,700 pounds. Losing the weight of an exceptionally large kindergarten class is quite impressive. In my opinion, however, that gastric bypass procedure is cheating. Instead of bypassing your stomach, you should have just bypassed those hams, cakes, and tubs of lard. That's just me.

But back to you. Your family's opinion clearly means a lot to you. LISTEN TO THEM! They are not only looking out for you, but for the safety of my eyes. For you to wear tiny tiny clothes is a crime against fashion and humanity. There is a reason tiny tiny models wear these tiny tiny clothes: it looks best on them. You don't see Mo'nique wearing the same outfit as Kate Moss, it just doesn't happen. Also, it's just cruelty to the clothes to make them strain like that. A pair of jeans was not meant to fit around a thousand inch waist, that is why god gave us elastic. As for humanity, why would you subject innocent bystanders to such atrocities? It's just mean. Don't you worry about the well-being of my eyes? Seeing so many rolls on one person will send me into a fit of seizures from which I may never recover.

The Magic Hate Ball

I Need a New Job (or Are You Fucking Kidding Me?)

If, for some reason, you've read my older posts, you'll know that I sit in close proximity to the copy room. For this reason (and being at the bottom of the totem pole), I have been asked to make sure the paper trays of all the machines are full in the morning. I have no problem with this. Most days, this consists of coming in, opening the trays, seeing they're full, and then closing the trays. Occasionally, I top off all of the trays with paper. The five seconds it takes to do this is not worth complaining about for days upon weeks.

Today, this has changed. I went in, checked the paper, and went back to my desk. Everything was full, so there's nothing I need to do, right? Wrong. A director came up to me in a fit. (The same director who's asked me check the paper every morning. Because actually putting in paper herself is too labor intensive.) Apparently, the machine was not copying her document. "Why?" I ask. I checked the paper. There are at least 2000 sheets in there. This is what she tells me:

"The machine is warming up."

Are you fucking kidding me? The machine needs to warm up. This is what these super-automated things need to do so that they don't need to be serviced every fucking week. In the time it took for her to tell me about this monstrosity, the machine warmed up and printed her copy. So she walked over and picked up her document, so I, thinking the issue is over, proceed to disregard her alarming ignorance of office machinery. Unfortunately for me, however, she comes back to me and proceeds to complain about these 20 second warm up periods. This is what she says to me:

"I don't understand why the machine needs to warm up. No one's used it all night. Why does it need to warm up?"

Once again: Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it needs to warm up after a night of inactivity. Like me, this thing sleeps at night. Why are you so stupid?! You're the first person to ask anything of this machine today. It needs to warm up! I don't understand what is so difficult with this concept?! How is it that you are able to function in the workplace?! I don't understand!! This downward spiral was interrupted by another one of her stupid requests:

"Can you make sure the machine is warmed up all the time? I don't want to have to wait for my copies."

Because I'm not that creative, I ask again: Are you fucking kidding me? This dumbass/asshole/idiot expects me to baby-sit the damned machine all day every day, making sure it's nice and warmed up for her impatient ass. I'm sorry, but this is too fucking much.

When it comes to this kind of stuff, I'm generally a patient person. I don't mind making sure the copiers and fax machines are full. It only takes a few seconds and it helps everybody else who uses them. But I will be fucking damned if she expects me to check up on the machines constantly just so that she doesn't have to wait that extra 20 seconds for them to warm up. She doesn't see any of her superiors/colleagues complaining. They understand the limitations of copy machines. If you're the first person to use it in the morning or after a few hours of inactivity, add a few seconds to your wait. It's not that fucking difficult.

Needless to say, I have begun the search for a new job. I think it will be best for all parties involved. I lose the desire to shoot someone in the face (including myself), and they avoid being shot in the face. Everyone's a winner!

Bitch, please. It aint' that bright.

I have only reaction to this: WHY?! Is it really necessary for sunglasses to be this large? Yes, I understand that cheeks need ultraviolet protection too, but there are creams for that. You could even go the ultra-Asian route and get a little umbrella to carry around when it’s sunny. While I’d still mock it, it’s better than these hideous glasses. While you may think these are attractive, this is what I see:When did it become attractive to look like The Fly? In this case, the experiment was botched even more badly, as you have none of the pre-packaged powers, i.e. sticking to walls, flight, and (in certain cases) the transmission of disease. I know it’s bright outside, and that pesky sun gets in the way, but is it really so bright as to warrant this monstrosity?

Perhaps you believe that your future is so bright that you need shades. Trust me in telling you that this is not the case. If anything, you’ve already peaked and are approaching your twilight years. You don’t need sunglasses when there is no sun. Perhaps you think that wearing these will trick the sun into coming back up:

SUN: Time to illuminate the other side of the world. WAIT A MINUTE! Someone’s still wearing sunglasses over there?! Is my watch right? Should I be lighting up the western hemisphere? I knew I should have gotten this stupid Swatch fixed. Guess I gotta go light up L.A.
MOON: Where is that bastard? He’s late again.

As far as I know, this tactic does not work. Soon after this happened, the moon came over, whipped the sun into shape, and explained the situation: sunglasses are a result of the sun; the sun is not a result of sunglasses.

Once again, I ask: WHY?! Unless you’re an anime character who has somehow transcended the boundaries of paper and animation cels, your eyes cannot be so large as to warrant these obnoxious things. And if you're eyes are that large, you had better be saving the world from evil queens from outer space, or whatever it is that the Sailor Scouts do.

Please.

Just stop.

The Worst Poem in Life (or Why My Brain is Bleeding)

It angers me that people think ownership of a Xanga page makes them competent poets/rappers. Case in point:

i've gotten myself into a terrible mess
issues i've over looked and never adressed
don't think its a game cuz i ain't playin
cuz its a god damn shame, all the shiet u sayin

to be continued...off to muhh fawkin wizzerk

The anger that this inspires in me has no equal. If you can imagine the rage between Lindsay and Hilary, you'll only be skimming the surface of mine. That is how deep this is. Don't think that rage is my only reaction to this, there is also an underlying sadness present. If this is how people are writing today, can you even imagine world politics in the next decade?

US Ambassador to Canada: u muhh fawkin Canadizzles best get the fawk outta alaskerk befour i send a fawkin mizzerk ur way. SUK DEEZ NUTZ MUHH FAWKUHS!

I can only hope that at this point, my home will be the (hopefully) nuclear, not nucular, missle's primary target, gifting me with an instant death. But back to the issue at hand. I'll try my best to discuss this "poem" without succumbing to any fits of rage:

This hurts my brain on so many levels. The left hemisphere of my brain has become a quivering mass of goo. This is perhaps the worst combination of self-delusion, fake ghetto-ness, and bad grammar I have ever seen in my life. And believe me, I know bad grammar.

I’ll excuse some of the misspellings, as there is no spell-check on Xanga (that I know of). Unfortunately, this only applies to such errors as adressed and the lowercase i. I’ll even ignore the ain’t, as this has really become a staple in most American vernaculars. One thing I cannot ignore is cuz. Is because that much of a hassle to type? Even if you want to cut back on the number of syllables, ‘cause is perfectly acceptable. Can you imagine if this child was addressing his cousin (a.k.a. cuz) in any way? That could trigger serious bleeding in my already damaged Broca’s area. Blood is pouring out of my ears just thinking about it. (Even as this is happening, I’ve been able to adhere to the rules of proper grammar.)

Is it really necessary to let us know how exactly to pronounce these words? Why is shit spelled with an e, creating the non-word: shiet? I assume you pronounce this word in two syllables: shi-et. The thing is, if you’re so concerned with economic syllable distribution, why would you add to this already short word? This (let’s call it a) piece flows much better with the single syllable shit, rather than the two syllable shiet. To the “poet/rapper”: It’s amazing how you’ve made this already hopeless piece of shit even worse with the addition of a single letter.

The worst offense is muhh fawkin wizzerk. I understand this is supposed to be a sort of drawled/super ghetto affectation of “motherfucking work,” but is it really necessary to spell it in this manner? The pronunciation of “motherfucking work” should really be left to the reader. Also, in reading muhh fawkin wizzerk aloud, I sound like Rain Man, albeit with a lower I.Q., no math ability, and severe head trauma.

I don't know if I have the ability to address wizzerk, but I will try my best to do so. Why do people insist on adding random Zs (followed by -erks, -izzles, or other forms of literal stupidity) to words in the hope that they can sound like Snoop Dogg? Last I checked, he's the only one who has even a remote chance of pulling it off; and it's only because he's smoked enough marajuana to alleviate all cases of glaucoma in the world: past, present and future.

Oh, dear. My ear canals don't seem to have enough capacity to handle the blood gushing from my brain, so some of the flow is being diverted to my eyes.

Excuse me while I wipe down my keyboard.

(Final Note: Overlooked is ONE WORD! Not two! ONE RWOIg;kl a;kldhg asdlja;a;lsdkjf jspellCHECK!! a;ksdaf asd puiaretj34t698 4t aphga ;hgapwroijajg; 364_+_)sdf/ eju fp syupi jrstij ,r yp nsf$$$ ENGLISH0awt8p ka;lkj45 CLASS poaid a[09a,a]ld!!!!!!!!!!

[Editor's Note: The combination of a blood-soaked keyboard and brain hemmorrhage have rendered i write i temporarily disabled. Please forgive the outburst. We hope she makes a full recovery in the near future.]