Edicts of Nancy

The blogosphere's most persecuted Christian!

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

This is the way I serve my sentence

Well, the remodel/Christian persecution campaign is in full swing at the Beauty Palace. Aside from my regular duties, I've now been designated as the one to "assist" (as in doing all the work myself) the stylists in moving from one chair to the next while each station undergoes refinishing. Though I'm certainly unhappy about being unable to blog at work (and about being too tired to do it once I get home), the ultimate loser in this miserable shell game is Freedom itself, since Our Nation goes hungry for the teachings of Nancy Beth while I am under this bondage. Conchita's one act of clemency through this whole ordeal was not making me be the one to get here at 5 a.m. to let the contractors in. Lan, one of the manicurists, actually volunteered(!) to do this. It seems that getting up early and showing up for work on time are among the stranger dictates of her Third World religion. It's a good thing the Vietnamese aren't a couple of inches taller, because they would probably rule the world.

If the "additional duties as assigned" I'm now forced to perform weren't enough to put this place on some human rights watchlist, I'm also forced to endure frequent squalls of noise from a drills and belt sanders, cat-calls from a work crew with questionable documentation status who can't keep their eyes off me, and a militant homosexual contractor with an English accent -- in short, I've been plunged into a searing vision of Hell straight from the imaginings of Merchant-Ivory. Naturally, the contractor can't help but try to drag me into his anti-Bush harangues. "Supposed to be another nice day today," he started in with me today while lingering around the reception desk.

I wasn't having it. "I suppose, if you consider warm and sunny to be nice weather," I said curtly, and promptly refocused my attention to the important business of untangling a ball of rubber bands and bobby pins.

After what seemed like an eternity, Conchita finally waddled her fat ass out of her office and up to my desk. "Your receptionist's keeping me quite entertained here," he said merrily as he handed her his clipboard, to which Conchita responded dryly, "Yes, she does that." Fuck you, Conchita.
Lest you think that life has been nothing but pain and suffering for Christians in a post-11/7 America, Jesus and I did manage to get to the LA Auto Show for a full evening of hearty protesting. For my next Praisemobile, I'll be choosing it on the basis of how well the vanity mirror on the back of the sun visor allows me to indulge in the ultimate expression of my Faith: applying my makeup. The research was painstaking (you don't know how many 8 year olds I had to shoo out of the driver's seat), but I can say with confidence that the frontrunner for Praisemobile 2008 is the Cadillac Escalade, whose mammoth proportions even translate over to the mirror: It must have been 4 by 6 inches, with lights on both the left and the right. Similarly impressive was the Audi A6, which offered the standard mirror in addition to A MAGNIFYING ONE!!! that slides behind it. And even Subaru, noted for its loyal clientele of lesbians, seems to have seen The Light: Their Forester has a small loop above the mirror designed specifically for holding lip liners and eyebrow pencils -- ingenious! The evening's biggest disappointment was the Hummer H2, which, despite a Rapture-inducing 11 mpg highway, had a chintzy little mirror (1" x 3") that seemed more at home in an '82 Toyota Tercel rather than Our Lord's Chariot. Since the driver-side mirror is the size of my head, though, I suppose I could just stick my head out the window, if traffic isn't too heavy.
A lot has happened since I last posted that must sadly go unremarked upon -- John Kerry's impregnating Mary Cheney, The Left's diabolical campaign to turn America into a nation of cocksuckers through soy-based products. But do not confuse silence with submission. As far as I'm concerned, this blog is still a going concern, and I will add my glorious contralto to the choir of Christian disapproval whenever the opportunity presents itself. Praise Him!


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