mojo's blog

Surprise! MOJO HAZ A COMPLAINT.

 

read booksVery recently—like, say, this morning—a book-themed website I follow on Facebook published a title on a blog post—miraculously disappeared an hour or so after they posted it, when I went specifically looking for it so’s I could complain bitterly about it in a more informed fashion—that basically said (from memory), “What to say to people who DRIVE YOU NUTS when the dastardly liars *CLAIM* they don’t have time to read!”

I like books. I read books. So there’s that.

But you wanna know what DRIVES ME NUTS? People who constantly THROW THEIR OBSESSIONS in your face and attempt to DICTATE EXACTLY HOW you should live your life. And WOE BETIDE YOU if you fail to live up to THEIR exacting standards.

If someone says “I don’t have time to read” all it REALLY means is, reading is NOT THAT HIGH a priority to them. So what? Perhaps it’s not as high a priority as, say, earning money for food or spending time with their family and friends. Maybe it’s not as high as, say, watching reality television. I don’t know. YOU don’t know. The point is, THEY ARE LIVING THEIR LIFE THE WAY THEY WANT TO at that moment.

Period.

Mojo the Monster

Rosie Meets Ratty, April 2006.
So just in case you aren't already convinced of just what an AWFUL person Mojo can be, I submit the following.


The other day I stumbled upon Rosie's AKC registration that I got from her previous owners. (Stumbled upon it because I don't care about such things.) And just this weekend the Favorite Husband and I were debating just how old she was; I remembered George died the same day as the Pope (April 2005) and I thought it was a bit after that, like early the next year. She was just under a year old when we got her; I remember that much.

Staahhp It!

Underpants Business PlanI used to think there wasn't a more annoying sort on the internet beyond those who give themselves any sort of title that includes the phrase "Social Media". Before that it was blogging; before that it was marketing the One Miracle Secret That Allows You To Sit In Your Underwear Making Millions On the Internet While Lesser Mortals Sleep.

Regardless of whether they call themselves marketers or mavens or gurus or whatnot, the basic business plan remains the same: make lots of money on the internet by "writing" (believe me, I use that word loosely) an over-priced e-book telling people how to make money on the internet. Add the prerequisite circle-jerk of business partners and wannabes giving one another substantially false testimonials, and you maaaayyyybe got yourself a money maker for a couple of weeks (assuming you have enough gullible friends and acquaintances who can be roped into buying your wares), until it finally catches on to those who fell for it that there actually *IS* no secret, aside from continuing the pyramid scheme of writing your OWN e-book about how to make da munnies on da internet.

I used to think there was nothing worse. But now I am prepared to publicly admit: Mojo Was Wrong.

'Tis the Season.

Annoy your friends. Traumatize your loved ones. And let the spirit of the season wash over you like some terrible quicksand of obnoxiousness:

 

Mojo

Mojo's Confusion Continues, Part II...

Bay Leaves

So Mojo, fresh from the TRAUMA of seeing pictures of EVIL CLOWNS everywhere, decides to go out for Thanksgiving dinner with some Loved Ones. It's buffet style--Mojo has the salmon, since she planned on having turkey the NEXT day--and for dessert Mojo chooses a cup of chocolate mousse. Because, ummm, listen, if the words "chocolate mousse" aren't reason enough, we might as well end it now because you will never understand The Free Spirit That Is Mojo.

Anyway, I am eating chocolate mousse, and from the very first I am aware of a nasty taste I don't particularly like, but I can't quite place it. I keep eating because, well, chocolate mousse, but the taste doesn't go away and it's actually making me a hair nauseated. Which is a shame because, well, chocolate mousse.

The waitress pops by to see how things are going, and I do my best to not make a horrible face as I casually ask, "What's in the chocolate mousse?" Because this is the sort of pretentious Yuppie cuisine where the chef likes to add Weird Stuff to things, and you have to be cool about it or people might suspect Mojo is slightly less awesome than she actually is.

The waitress lights up like you wouldn't believe (she's probably in her early twenties, so she still has the energy to get all excited about foods she had no hand in preparing except to bring it to the table) and she gushes "Isn't it GREAT?"

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