Just when she thought she'd turned into JC, with all that turning of the other cheek business!
Or into Gandhi, with his peaceful, non-violent approach to strife!
Or into the Buddha, (not saying anything about the Buddha's weight problem, which expateek seems to share at the moment), but rather about the Buddha's letting go of anger stuff.
Just when y'all thought that expateek was just about right in the head, guess what came in the mail the other day? Go on, guess! Ha, time's up, slow-poke.
Yes, in the mail was the fabulouso fantastico prize from Steamy! And little did Steamy know that she was inadvertently feeding expateek's sick addiction to violent role-playing games.
le French boss of the bad news, who thoughtlessly and cruelly forced expateek to once again up sticks and move countries, from Poland to the US. Damn and blast him!
So let's try out one of the 10 plagues on le boss. Here he is, all healthy and happy, strolling down a verdant boulevard in Rueil-Malmaison, just outside of Paris. Ah, les fleurs! Les oiseaux! [Ze flowers! Ze birds!] His life is so relaxed, so lovely, as he mulls over what kinds of fresh and unreasonable demands he can make upon his minions.
But attends! Look! What is this?
Argh! Pffft! Guh! Mon Dieu!
My God, I am stricken! Ze plague! I die!
Ooooh. That was effective, though a bit too quick and efficient for expateek's tastes. She wonders which of the plagues offers a slower and more painful death. Lice sounds nice and itchy. Perhaps she'll try that one next.
Meanwhile, ta ta for now. expateek has some important things to do.