KOmmie laurustina parallel constructs her free-floating angst

One of the favorite writing styles of the DUmmies and the KOmmies is the use of parallel construction. By this I mean that they style their sentences to begin the same way and then they vary the second part.

The DUmmies and the KOmmies think this is good writing.

The DUmmies and the KOmmies think this is effective writing.

The DUmmies and the KOmmies think this is writing with style and great earnestness.

The DUmmies and the KOmmies do this parallel-construction bit over and over and over again, ad nauseam, ad infinitum.

The DUmmies and the KOmmies do parallel construction especially when they are whining or complaining ("I used to believe...") or wanting to get something off their chest ("I never expected...") or taking a brave strong stand ("From this day forward I will no longer accept...").

In other words, the DUmmies and the KOmmies do this all the time.

But today we may just have the Mother of All Parallel-Constructionism. KOmmie Drama Queen laurustina parallel constructs her free-floating angst into overdrive, here in this THREAD, the elegantly titled, "I want my f*#%ing life back."

So let us now join lyrical laurustina and the KOmmies, in Redundant Repetitive Red, while the commentary of your humble guest correspondent, Charles Henrickson, wondering if the DUmmies and the KOmmies live in a parallel universe, is in the [brackets]:

I want my f*#%ing life back

[Great title, KOmmie laurustina. It sings.]

I want to not be invisible anymore.

[Don't worry, KOmmie laurustina, you're getting GREAT EXPOSURE here on the DUmmie FUnnies!]

I want to get up and shower and have somewhere to go.

[I think everyone else would like you to shower, too.]

I want to punch the people who talk about the recession being over.

[Haven't you heard? This is Recovery Summer 2.0!]

I want to not have to choose between toilet paper or dog food.

[I think if you use the dog food, instead of the toilet paper, you may need to take another shower.]

I want to take back all the money I spent on student loans for an education that does me no good now.

[A mind is a terrible thing to waste.]

I want to stop mending the waistband of five-year-old sweatpants.

[A waist is a terrible thing to mend.]

I want to not consider two tacos for a dollar at Jack In The Box a splurge.

[Thinking outside the Box.]

I want to walk into a job interview not reeking of desperation.

[Really, take that shower. Please.]

I want to shop at the Dollar Store because I'm thrifty, not because it is the only way I can afford luxuries like body wash, toothpaste and laundry soap.

[Don't shower so much.]

I want to pay for a haircut, instead of using the kitchen scissors to “even up the ends again”.

[Just shave the whole thing off and you'll save on shampoo.]

I want to have a sh*t job to b*tch about.

[Maybe if you used a different writing style for your job applications. . . .]

I want to wear contact lenses again, instead of these wobbly old glasses.

[I would think a KOmmie would LIKE the Wobblies.]

I want to not have to choose between buying tampons or a pound of ground beef.

[I don't think the ground beef would work so well.]

I want to buy a book that ISN'T on the 25-cent rack at the Thrift Store.

[I think Pitt's books are on the 10-cent rack.]

I want to stop avoiding my friends because they're pitying or worse.

[Maybe THEY'RE avoiding YOU.]

I want to use good trash bags.

[I'm sorry, your friends will still be able to tell who you are.]

I want to consider owning a spicebox and a mortar and pestle NOT a pipe dream.

[New recipes for the bong pipe!]

I want a new bra.

[Is that you, benburch?]

I want to feel like a real person again.

I want to BE a real person again.

[I want you to stop with the parallel construction.]

I am sick to death of feeling powerless.

[OK, so you stopped with the "I wants." I now predict we move to the "I am sick to death ofs."]

I am sick to death of explaining to other people that “getting a job at McDonalds” is not as simple as they think.

[I think aiming for Mayor McCheese right off the bat may be setting your sights too high. Work your way up.]

I am sick to death of feeling powerless.

[Didn't we already do this one? Look, the idea of parallel construction is that you VARY the second part of the sentence, not just automatically repeat the whole thing.]

I am sick to death of people telling me that “it could be worse”, because I know that it could and I am convinced that it will and I am only biding my time in this limbo which is a certain kind of hell all its own.

[Well, it COULD be worse. You might have to READ a whinefest like this.]

I am sick. And sad. And exhausted. And undone.

[Period. Punkt. End of story. Thank you, KOmmie laurustina. Now to your fellow KOmmies' KOmments . . .]

I could have written this diary.

[I AM LAURUSTINA!]

Frankly, after dozens of fruitless interviews, my ass is my only hope.

[Barney Frank checks in. . . .]

A very poignant rant.

[A very petulant rant.]

I don't much like our fellow countrymen. Even when they are Dem's I often find their thiking to be nutty.

[ESPECIALLY when they are Dems, I find their thinking to be NUtty!]

This rant should be a manifesto.

[Manifesto Destiny!]

I want a solid night's sleep. . . .

I want to not have this extra 40 lbs. I gained from all the stress-eating. . . .

[Look what you've done, laurustina! Now you've got SOMEONE ELSE doing the parallel-construction thing!]

I want to walk into the grocery store . . .

[. . . and make up a bouncy.]

And, I could use a new bra, too.

[Which leads us to this final KOmment from KOmmie laurustina . . .]

I am overwhelmed by the support and suggestions and the stories you have all shared. I wish new bras and shoes and hope and joy for each one. . . .

[I wish you toilet paper and dog food.
I wish you tampons and ground beef.
I wish you good trash bags and lots of showers. . . .]