Old school DCUM game: You post something about yourself and we'll tell you what's wrong with you...

[Anonymous]

I'm a little down, a little up so I made up a thread on DCUM where I make confessions to myself and them analyze them in the third person. I am very witty but don't have a high enough opinion of myself to actually take up writing as a vocation even though I would probably be very successful at it. I need to think more of myself and stop wasting my time breaking my chops on a silly parenting website.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I'm a little down, a little up so I made up a thread on DCUM where I make confessions to myself and them analyze them in the third person. I am very witty but don't have a high enough opinion of myself to actually take up writing as a vocation even though I would probably be very successful at it. I need to think more of myself and stop wasting my time breaking my chops on a silly parenting website.

You still smile thinking about the day you hit that squirrel with the car. Your desire to “out” the witty poster (unwilling to accept there may be a band of caped crusaders zinging your zinfandel-slinging, hairband-wearing, sexlessed neighbors) is only exceeded by your desire to see the return of shoulder pads to acceptable fashion. You are wondering if your computer-geek cousin Ron could be of use in figuring out who is responsible for this thread, but then you would need to provide him lunch and he often wipes your household out of mayonnaise.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I'm a little down, a little up so I made up a thread on DCUM where I make confessions to myself and them analyze them in the third person. I am very witty but don't have a high enough opinion of myself to actually take up writing as a vocation even though I would probably be very successful at it. I need to think more of myself and stop wasting my time breaking my chops on a silly parenting website.

You always buy tickets in the front row and beg the actors to break character. A good night is getting a stand up comedian to acknowledge your heckling, even if it means blowing their stack and ruining their career. You have no idea how your own posts show up on a thread made up entirely by an OP, but you have more important nuts to crack. You have the annoying habit of hiding nuggets of truth or flattery inside otherwise condescending goo, much like your favorite nut-centered Christmas candy. You are torn between wanting your MIL to drop dead and wanting her to hang around long enough for you to outdo her in the Christmas cookie department. For once you want to hear your DH say something more than "these cookies are as good as my mother's." They're better, damn it. Way better.

[Anonymous]

Pretty close-I am single, never been married (therefore no mother-in-law), have no children, therefore no private school or angst over over scheduling and working too much, have only been to a comedy club once and kept my mouth shut the entire time and I don't celebrate Christmas. However there are some who might consider me to be annoying but their family members and can't do anything about it. I also have a cousin named Ron, but he sells aluminum siding.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Pretty close-I am single, never been married (therefore no mother-in-law), have no children, therefore no private school or angst over over scheduling and working too much, have only been to a comedy club once and kept my mouth shut the entire time and I don't celebrate Christmas. However there are some who might consider me to be annoying but their family members and can't do anything about it. I also have a cousin named Ron, but he sells aluminum siding.

Meant 'they are' family members-you just make so nervous-could it be love?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Pretty close-I am single, never been married (therefore no mother-in-law), have no children, therefore no private school or angst over over scheduling and working too much, have only been to a comedy club once and kept my mouth shut the entire time and I don't celebrate Christmas. However there are some who might consider me to be annoying but their family members and can't do anything about it. I also have a cousin named Ron, but he sells aluminum siding.

Despite claiming to love the Farce thread, you have never actually learned the meaning of the word farce and are annoyed when a thread titled “We’ll tell you what’s wrong with you” doesn’t deliver an accurate assessment of your problems. You feel this is false advertising and will send a note to the site administrator along those lines in the Website Feedback forum. You don’t have a cousin Ron, and no one sells aluminum siding anymore.

[Anonymous]

Actually, the details of my life are quite inconsequential-My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. THE SORT OF GENERAL MALAISE THAT THE GENIUS POSSESS AND THE INSANE LAMENT. My childhood was typical-summers in Rangoon, luge lessons, in the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds-pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualitically shaved my testicles. Did I mention that I like to eat salad with my hands?

[Anonymous]

I first heard the phrase "a taste of one's own medicine" years ago, but I still have no idea what it means. So when somebody posts a silly jibe at me (the OP), my back gets up and I start getting meaner. This despite an obvious talent for zingers and writing in general, which makes my tone-deafness somewhat hard to understand.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Actually, the details of my life are quite inconsequential-My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. THE SORT OF GENERAL MALAISE THAT THE GENIUS POSSESS AND THE INSANE LAMENT. My childhood was typical-summers in Rangoon, luge lessons, in the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds-pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualitically shaved my testicles. Did I mention that I like to eat salad with my hands?

It all sounded so familiar to me. I let myself indulge in a serious feeling of daja vu, and then -- testicles!! My god, you are a man! Please tell me you are a woman who is just tying this post in with the gooey nut filled Christmas candy. Please tell me I'm not exchanging love notes with a male troll. Please.

[Anonymous]

I'm a woman(but the part about having my testicles shaved is true). Want to make meat helmets together?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Actually, the details of my life are quite inconsequential-My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. THE SORT OF GENERAL MALAISE THAT THE GENIUS POSSESS AND THE INSANE LAMENT. My childhood was typical-summers in Rangoon, luge lessons, in the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds-pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualitically shaved my testicles. Did I mention that I like to eat salad with my hands?

You have a horrible hate of cat hair. You would rather stab yourself in the eye with a rusty spork than have cat hair all over your house. Because of this, your husband's pussy gets shaved more often than yours and you changed its name to Mr. Bigglesworth. Your husband feels both henpecked and in the doghouse simultaneously. The smell of chestnuts sucks all the Christmas spirit out of you but you love smores any time of year. Your drink your martinis shaken, not stirred.

[Anonymous]

Did I mention that when I was nine, I saw my sister eaten by Lithuanian refugees-and this was in New Jersey?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I first heard the phrase "a taste of one's own medicine" years ago, but I still have no idea what it means. So when somebody posts a silly jibe at me (the OP), my back gets up and I start getting meaner. This despite an obvious talent for zingers and writing in general, which makes my tone-deafness somewhat hard to understand.

I have no idea what silly jibe you are referring to. I have kept all my posts to cute little responses about toe socks and potlucks. Whoever you two are are ruining my droll thread. I am leaving, so you can now turn this into the overly erudite porn site you secretly wanted all along.

[Anonymous]

I want to hear more about the meat helmets.

[Anonymous]

*Silence* The Witty Poster has left the forum.