Tuesday, April 27, 2004

(1) This unrelenting sinusitis, which has not only left me with a searing, flaming pain in my sinus cavity, but also a 24/7 headache of a caliber that makes me seriously consider stabbing a pointy stick in my left eye to relieve the pressure and bring some relief . . . furthermore, in addition to the above, this pig-fucking sinusitis has had the audacity to drop down into my chest as well, to breed a nasty little lung fungus that causes me to cough myself into exhaustion all day and all night long.

(2) The neighbor who stuffs an inappropriate amount of laundry into the basement washer, causing it to malfunction and go on strike in protest, leading to the dispatching of a repairman and the concomitant inability of anyone else to do their laundry in the meantime, even though they are attempting to get ready for an out-of-town trip. Similarly, the neighbor who repeatedly abandons his laundry in the washer for extended periods of time . . . necessitating my having to make a decision about whether to (a) wait (even though it could be days!) for said neighbor to complete his laundry, (b) to remove the wet laundry and just let it sit (which is bound to make neighbor unhappy), or (c) to dry neighbor's laundry for him in order to keep the flow of laundry going forward, even though I am not his fucking mother!

(3) The asshole who has been letting their dog into our back yard to poop big stinky dog poops all over the place. Everyone who lives in an apartment in this house has to walk through the backyard to get to their car, or to get to the basement laundry, and the backyard is a veritable land-mine of dog poop. If I find out who this rude motherfucker is, I'm going to start dumping cat poop on their front doorstep and yard so they can fully appreciate the magnanimous nature of neighborly reciprocity.

(4) Certain back-stabbing people who are not even actual members of the English Department who nonetheless are constantly trying to stir up trouble for me, and who think that it's acceptable to attempt to send off incomplete galleys of a literary magazine (which were still missing the editor's essay, contributors' notes, and a second-round of proof-reading that uncovered well over 100 small edits/corrections that still needed to be made) to the printer without the permission of, or any prior consultation whasoever with, the editor of the issue (i.e., me).

That is all.
Posted by Artichoke Heart | 12:09 AM |
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Books by Artichoke Heart
Beyond Heart Mountain
Year of the Snake

Poems by Artichoke Heart
Songs for a Rainy Season
Toothpick Warriors
Snake Wife
Happy Hour
Girl With A Bowl On Her Head

Pillow Book Courtiers Of The
East Wing
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Pillow Book Courtiers Of The
West Wing
Blogroll Me!

Acknowledgments and Buttons

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