[SUPER DUPER UPPITY DATE BELOW!! HEH.]
Well, isn't this just the most totally unexpected thing you ever saw:
A hard post to write
June 10th, 2008
I need help. For any of you who know me in “meatspace” - real life - you know how hard it is for me to say those words.
I lost my job about two months ago. It was a new job, not the one I had toiled in for the last three years. It looked promising. Instead, I found out that there were no clients, no work, and no money beyond the few months I was employed. When they told me they were letting me go, I remember thinking to myself “How did I let myself get here?" ...
Unfortunately, I am now without means. Totally flat broke. A little advertising here on GOTR, and some temp work, but it’s not paying the bills. Any bills. And the rent is well past due.
You know that I don’t normally ask for money for myself, unless you can benefit from it, i.e. sending me to CPAC or whatever else may be blog related. This isn’t blog-related. This is life or death. I need your help. Most cardboard boxes don’t have highspeed, so if you want to think of it as contributing to the blog, that’s fine. That would sit better with my stiff-necked pride, anyway!
The PayPal button is to your right. And thank you.
Gosh, Wendy, how did it ever come to this? Oh, wait, let me guess: You made very little effort to conceal your identity, and you simultaneously wrote horrifically racist shit like this. Having trouble finding work these days? Go figure, eh?
Welcome to Kathy Shaidle's world, Wendy. Enjoy.
P.S. Wendy? If you're looking to save money, you might want to order just one drink at a time:
I'm just sayin'.
TOTALLY UNSYMPATHETIC AFTERSNARK: It occurs to me to suggest that, before any of Wendy Sullivan's adoring groupies begin shelling out any cash, they might want to make sure it's being invested wisely. How about a quick perusal of Wendy's spending habits? Oooooh ... that doesn't look good:
More CPAC Swag
My ticket may have cost me $425, but I walked out with a fortune worth of books, shirts, and other swag...
Books! Oh my god, there were books! So many books, so little luggage space. WonderWoman and I wound up having to buy extra duffel bags from the airline to cart all this back across the border...
In addition, I purchased Glenn Reynolds' An Army of Davids, and Michelle Malkin's Unhinged. I had both Glenn and Michelle sign my book to RightGirl.
Here's a thought, Wendy ... maybe you should stop dumping hundreds of dollars into registration fees for worthless, neo-con wankfests. And, hey ... you could try selling some of those awesome books you picked up, although I'm not optimistic that you'll cover the rent that way, given that most of them are now probably collecting dust in the 99-cent remainder bin at your local car wash.
And one more piece of advice, Wendy -- I'm fairly sure your time these days might be better spent hitting the bricks looking for work and not toiling away on that wicked cool radio show of yours, which is apparently such unmitigated crap that even Twatrick Ross thinks it sucks canal water.
So suck it up, Wendy. You yappy whingers are always blithering on about the evils of welfare and the nobility of hard work. Howzabout you stop asking for charity and get out there and earn a living the way most of us do? By working for it.
Oh, and Wendy? If you really do end up needing a cardboard box, I recommend the picture-in-picture model. Your fellow homeless people will be intensely jealous.
SUPER DUPER UPPITY DATE: It occurs to me to suggest that anyone crying poverty today should not have, less than a year ago, written and posted this:
RightGirl gets her waxing done at The Ten Spot on Queen. Aside from the agony they inflict on my more sensitive areas, they do a great eyebrow job, too. Thursday nights they serve martinis with their pedicures, and they have a very funky west-end atmosphere. Clean, friendly, hip and urban...
Last weekend I joined a friend at Body Blitz at Adelaide and Portland. While she was getting a massage, I had my body scrubbed with sea salt with herbs and oil to slough off a peeling sunburn. Mmmmm, bliss...
The Elmwood Spa in Toronto (on Elm Street, natch) is a place I’ve been to a few times, including this evening for a facial...
If money is no object in life, get your ass on a plane to Hawaii. Luxury is an understatement at the Ihilani. On the far flung South West cost of Oahu (as far away from the chaos of Honolulu and Waikiki as you can get without getting wet), in Ko’olina, is the JW Marriott Resort and Spa. It’s where I spent my first Hawaiian night back in April, and at $400/night, I’m glad I only had to stay the one!
Enjoy that cardboard box, Wendy.