Pass the Condiments-foot in mouth (again)

 When I put my foot in my mouth, I usually put it in up to the femur. No surprises this week!

Apparently I upset some members of the LGBT community because I slagged off Fanny Fruitcake last week. Oh, pardon me! Bile green, urine yellow (neon, at that!), and puce walls? That, plus being very heavy handed about the fact that I should give her a try-I'm not criticizing anyone, let alone an entire community. What I am saying is that anyone of any sexual preference (except maybe, for animals and children), should back off when politely told "no". 

If you've been following this for any amount of time (goody!), you'll know that I slag everyone off-especially the Brits, who, let's face it, deserve it. It's entertaining. It's fun-and it does make me wonder how most of these people (perhaps any of these people) ever made it past puberty. 

Lessons learned: anyone who is too physically weak to defend themselves should never go to anyone's house unless they know the person and trust them not to jump them-except if you're armed. I personally feel that the government should provide all physically disabled people with mace-but, of course, that's just my opinion, for what it's worth (to the government, it's worth nothing).

Here's another bit of injustice that you might not know if you are following this outside the UK: if you are attacked and try to defend yourself, you will be arrested and charged with assault. And that is the absolute truth. The offender could -and would-probably claim that he (or she) wasn't properly toilet trained (oh, boo f-ing hoo), and will be let off with a warning and a slap on the hand. I know this from personal experience.

So if anyone from the LGBT is offended, this is a sort of half-assed apology. I'm not slagging you off, only Fanny Fruitcake, who would have had a bunch of fives if she hadn't let me leave when I did. I was, after all, polite. Ish.

My week was marred by the fact that I was summarily discharged from vestibular physiotherapy-having been told that there is nothing else that can be done for me. Some of you know by now that being told that I have basically reached the end of the line is the equivalent of waving a red flag at a bull. Like someone said: nobody puts baby in the corner-even if baby is a bit too long in the tooth to be called "baby". Whatever. This is where I roll up my sleeves and fight back-just as I've done since the cripplers nearly killed me eleven years ago. I won't be running any marathons, but there are a lot of other things I can do.

Just never tell me that I "can't". 

It's about 90F at the moment, and I'm sweating all over the keyboard. I wonder if anyone ever got electrocuted by sweating all over their computer...So it's time to go to Starbucks and sweat all over their floor (at least they enforce social distancing, so everyone else can sweat with impunity).