Anne Slanders

As a blogger, I encounter numerous situations that can be quite vexing. Sometimes, simple things seem to escalate into major annoyances, testing my patience and resolve.

One such instance occurred recently when I discovered that the coffee shop where I usually write had run out of my favorite type of tea. It may seem trivial, but as a creature of habit, this unexpected change disrupted my routine and threw off my focus for the entire day. Additionally, I was irked by the loud conversations happening around me, making it difficult to concentrate on my writing.

Another terse moment surfaced when a blogger referred to as the Painter, insinuated that a recent commenter was me. How absurd. Here was her “proof”.

If you have recalled, I have referred to the Painter, on several occasions, as nothing more than a colloquial bumbling despotic hemorrhage who frequently encourages discourse amongst her Monkey Crew. It’s sad, really.

Like a discarded “Survivor” contestant cast from the island of online chat, who is now dumpster diving at the backlot of a Burger King, the Painter’s drabble comes from table scraps handed to her by her misguided pack.

Here was what the Painter’s dumpster diver forgot to include.

With the mindset of a whining child, the Painter takes issue with “T E Snyder” responding to my posts and believes that because Mr. Snyder responded to Mr. Chipwich, Mr. Snyder has to be me.

I know what my readers are thinking. “She obviously has a diminished mentality.” Sadly, this is the case but no worries.

Since the Painter loves Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade floats, I fashioned one for her. Let us hope it lifts her spirits.

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