First off, Rosie's FINE, by the way. I find it endlessly amusing that Mojo can suffer horrible third degree burns and her sniveling whines are met with comparative echoing silence, yet when the stupid dog pulls a muscle and limps--much the way Lassie used to limp on cue--suddenly everyone's showing up at the house with vats of chicken soup and get well cards. For Mojo? Of course not. For the stupid dog. Anyway, she barely limps now and she's back to going mental dog when she's outside, so while we all appreciate your obvious concern for the welfare of all of God's creatures who happen NOT to be named Mojo, it's time to Move On and complain about Other Things.

Recently Mojo encountered, in disturbingly quick succession, two of her Most Favorite People in the World. Seeing how badly sarcasm can translate in the digital realm, let me rephrase that as "two of the most obnoxious human beings Mojo has yet to encounter in this Vale of Tears she calls her life".

First off was the Rude Mean Person. This was a total stranger, mind you, who deigned to interact with Mojo, despite Mojo's valiant efforts for them NOT to, and who felt the need to assume the Mantle of Superiority through Force and Blunt Trauma. Which was entirely needless and unnecessary, since Mojo is more than willing to surrender said Mantle without much of a fight anyway. But some people feel they can't accept the Mantle without a fight, and since Mojo's not much of a fighter it is rather like watching Mojo get flogged with a stick while she just sits there.

You see, Mojo is one of those (lazy) pick-yer-battles sorts, and choosing to interact with an obviously rude and abusive total stranger is really not worth the effort. Just about the first words uttered by this person had Mojo's mouth agape and the question What on earth did *I* ever do to YOU? flashing through her hyperactive little head.

To which there are some people out there chuckling and saying that's just the sort of treatment Mojo DESERVES, since she herself is such a snarky unpleasant character. But you see, people, aside from my tiresome whining on the web, my public persona, should you have the incredible pleasure of meeting me, is one of Pleasant and Smiling Service to All Mankind. Sure, I might be grumbling curses at you in the back of my brain, but YOU'LL NEVER KNOW, at least by looking at me.

Now, I could certainly understand should any of these curses somehow squeak their way out of the stinking cesspool of my innermost thoughts and get presented to the victim, well, yes, then they would have the right--indeed, the obligation--to treat me like dirt. But when you hold the door for a total stranger and instead of a thank you or at least being ignored you are instead snapped at and verbally abused....oh, my. You just want to aim a kick at said person's ample backside as they pass. But no, Mojo keeps smiling throughout, because that's the sort of Pleasant Lass she is. That and her fear of lawsuits, and you just KNOW said Unpleasant Person will be first in line shrieking at the judge and stabbing their stubby fingers at you for emphasis.

Mojo then encountered, again, in eerily quick succession, the reason why she was in a public place holding the door for rude strangers in the first place. To meet her second favorite type of person, the Banally Nice But Utterly Incompetent Fritterer who spends their entire life apologizing for their incompetence instead of actually trying to DO something about their incompetence. We all have Bad Days, mind you; Mojo has all the sympathy in the world for such things. But when someone is making your life a good deal harder than it need be because they can't be trusted with the Simplest of Tasks, and then afterward keeps getting in your way and tripping you as they feel the need to follow you around apologizing for their incompetence and giggling about how much inconvenience they are causing you, while all the while you are compensating for their utter lack of constructive input in the situation and scrambling to make things right after being foolish enough to be taken in by this person's assurances that this time will be different and they will indeed do what they said they would do... man, Mojo gets tired just thinking about it.

At least they're pleasant about it. But there are days when Mojo wonders how they tie their shoes in the morning, since they appear to be supremely incapable of doing anything. I mean, ANYTHING.

Sheesh. And you thought MOJO was bad...

Mojo