Well, Actually...

It's not just for mansplainers, anymore.

I spent a fun day playing with TurboTax, which is like a computer game for people who like spreadsheets better than guns. Life was good until I reached the final boss “medical expenses.” Now, I am trying to figure out if there is any way in hell we spent as much as the insurance company credits towards our out of pocket, and what the likelihood of being audited is if I take their numbers.

My husband, who is a very smart man, made me a cocktail to go with supper.

And then, I went on Facebook, and looked at the local news page, where people who have a stick up their ass go to argue about what they’ve seen peeking through their curtains at strangers on the street.

Why is that white van driving around town, and why is their music so loud?

Don’t know. Don’t care.

And who is that woman that wanders the streets in a bathrobe at four in the morning? Doesn’t she know she could be hit by a car?

I actually know that one. She’s not homeless. She’s my neighbor. She hasn’t been hit, yet and probably doesn’t care. But we have picked her up on the Ring, wandering past our house in the dark with a cup of coffee.

Today’s discussion is political. Someone (the green haired friend of my purple haired church organist friend) was talking about No Kings and trans awareness.

Someone called them mentally ill.

Someone else said that wasn’t Christian.

Someone else said we are all entitled to our opinions.

So someone said, exactly, and circled back to not Christian.

Someone played the school voucher card, which made someone else blame the government, which was answered with “Exactly” only arguing the other side of the point. Which made someone call out CNN, which was countered with FOX.

And the first person said they didn’t trust either and got news from the BBC.

Whereupon an earlier poster (probably the guy who thinks he’s qualified to diagnose mental illness) said HA! ENGLAND HAS A KING!

Ok.

I am tired, crabby and drinking. And I do not have nearly enough enemies. So, I said,

“Well, actually…”

That phrase gets a bad rap since it is used so often by mansplainers. But I kind of like it. I think, if I were to get a tattoo, it might be those two words. That is because I am a didactic bitch. I don’t like it when people are wrong. Or vague. If there are facts, why not use them? Why not cite sources? Multiple times.

When I was in school, I was a nerd, sitting behind a pile of books and memorizing trivia. I worked in the library, because that was where the books were.

Also, the porn. And all the dangerous facts I was not encouraged to learn. That is a story for another time.

Then, I discovered high school theater and set about looking for ways to ruin my chances at gainful employment. I got a college degree in that and sewed costumes for a living for a bunch of years.

When I quit, the nerd resurfaced and I got a Master’s in Library Science. And discovered that I’d found a job that paid even worse than professional theater. So I sat at a circ desk in a branch library of a technical school and wrote romance novels on the computer.

There were a few other stops, but that brings me close to here, where I am working from home and looking at this internet comment about the English monarchy.

And someone who needs correcting. Several people, actually.

So, I pointed out that the role of King is largely ceremonial, and added that the inherited titles just got kicked out of the House of Lords…

Which is fascinating this historical romance author. Seriously, I am reading about this and eating popcorn. The mythical families of all my imaginary romance heroes are out of government? What are they going to do (other than run B and Bs in great houses and trade on their good names)?

And also, poster, I have this degree that is not some participation certificate (like the gif waved at someone else) proving that I can teach undergraduate research courses, if I want to. So, if you want to talk about biased news sources? I can look that up for you and prove both sides wrong!!!!!!!

Pant. Pant. Pant.

This is why I don’t usually talk to the neighbors. And why I am not a librarian, anymore. Announcing that I was one… (or am. This might be like what my father always told me about priests. Once a priest, always a priest)

Anyway, I don’t have to work in a library to act like one. And not one of the fun ones, either. My soul is wearing a cardigan and hornrims. They both have chains. My shoes are orthopedic. Lately, I’ve been wearing my hair in a bun.

And I am sick as fuck of all the people around here who don’t believe in facts. You can do your own research? Seriously?

Let me take a look at that. I don’t grade on a curve.

And if I catch you using YouTube, I’m going to hit you with a ruler.