Questions you shouldn’t ask

Don’t ask me to contribute to a charity. Have I mentioned that I have offspring, a home, and dogs to maintain? I feel like charities are getting more needy, but my salary is shrinking (no cost-of-living increase for, oh, 7 years now), and I feel more put upon now than ever before. Also, is it wrong of me to think charities need to focus a bit more on our fellow countrymen? I see adults and children alike, on a regular basis, who need help.

Don’t ask me what’s wrong. I wouldn’t know where to start, because I don’t know exactly what’s causing me to look sad. Let’s just leave it at that for now.

Don’t ask if I want another glass of red. Duh.

Don’t ask me how I will tell my tenants we are going to sell that house next year. I haven’t figured that out yet. If I tell them it’s because of our 7-year plan, they will probably be angry for us being callous (even though it’s my house to do with as I see fit). I need to strike just the right tone between nice/apologetic and resolute/firm.

Don’t act surprised when I get pissed about having asked you to participate in a Christmas ritual that you thought was unimportant and so didn’t join in. It’s all important. It just is, and I can’t believe these traditions are so important to me. This actually pisses me off more than anything else, because I never thought I was the traditional type. Gah.

P.S. While putting together the nativity scene at home, I convinced girl midget that pregnant Mary broke up with God to be with Joseph. Such scandal! Yes I cleared it up later. If you can’t have fun with your own midgets, why did you have any in the first place? Mine still think kids aren’t allowed in Las Vegas.


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