I love having friends that have to differenciate their waist cinchers by fabric.

I just caught up and am fuming.

If I act inappropriately in a classroom, then by all means report me. What I do in my own free time in my private life is none of your fucking business, bitch.

I can't help taking this personally. Hits way too close to home. I am a fucking National Board Certified Teacher and strive to be an incredible role model in school. I am also a woman who, in my personal life, loves kink and sex and corsets, and NONE of that has the least bit of bearing on my effectiveness as a teacher.

This woman obviously wants teachers to wear their Walmart faux-suede bib dresses over a turtleneck, be chaste and pure, and sleep in the damned classroom closet. I've got news for her--that's the samn damned logic that led to people like my mother being FIRED for getting pregnant back in the 70's. She was even married. Didn't matter. Fired.

FUME.

Erin, you did the right thing. The letter is a thing of beauty.

"I do'nt know you, but as a mom, I think it's important for Teachers to be of the highest morals, so I don't like to hear of teacher that are not. I think you are one of X's sisters friends, so I just thank GOD you are not a teacher in my town."

is speechless.

....

....

FUCKing hell. Wow.

is so speechless she has to write her own Fantasy Letter to the Stupid Cow.

Dear [stupid cow],

Thank you so very much for your unsolicited input on my fitness for my chosen career. Were it not for the fact that you are a total stranger, and that your email is as lacking in basic grammatical skills as it is in courtesy, perhaps I might find it in me to give a shred of a damn what you think about my character or professionalism. Since we have never met, however, and since you are basing your extraordinary assumptions about my professional unfitness upon a reference to clothing made in a private email, I avidly look forward to hearing you explain your point of view to my lawyer. Really. I'll supply you with my employers' address and phone number, and I'll even give them copies of the email you find so offensive, if you genuinely think that I am unfit for my profession.

I shall not waste my time defending my own professionalism to someone as spectacularly ignorant, parochial and ill bred as you have demonstrated yourself to be. I do trust that your children have the opportunity to learn better grammar and social skills from their teachers than they can from you, regardless of what said teachers may do when they are not in school.

And you know what? Baby Jesus doesn't love you more for being such a prudish, self righteous cow. In fact, he pretty much thinks you're an ignorant redneck fuckhead with some really ugly clothes, who needs help distinguishing her arse from her elbow and couldn't figure out what to do with an apostrophe if her fucking life depended on it.

Sucks to be you, bitch. And it's going to suck a whole lot more if you are stupid enough to try to report me for moral turpitude on the basis of this email. Bring. It. On.

breathes a sigh

There. Glad I've got that out of my system...although perhaps I lost a teensy weensy bit of the moral highground there...? Nah.

But oh, I loved your reply, Erin. Loved loved loved.

(eek! Make the cat stop sneezing on me! Cat snot! Eeek! Buy a frigging HANKIE, damn it!)

(Imagines an Erin/Fay/Kristin puppy pile of post-righteous indignation cuddles)

(Giggles in happy place)

There ain't a one of em in that pile that doesn't enjoy kink, sex and corsets.

I WISH I HAD THOSE TEACHERS!

Ahhh, that's some quality rant there. Nothing like a charge of turpitude to fire up the engine of a writer's imagination.

I think we should invite MM and Allyson to check in on this, just to get the far-snarly full invective versions.

What an uptight cow.

Her poor, poor children. I bet they wish they had you as a teacher, Erin.

I think we should invite MM

Have done so. He'll be along shortly.

By the way, Hec, lovely picture of your poker-playing buddy and his poker-playing girlfriend in todays USA Today.

Let me see...

Dear [Asshatted Fuckstick]

Thank you for your interest in the trueness of my moral compass and the disposition of my Eternal Soul. Your attention and concern truly touched me and warmed the cockles of my heart.

Let me, however, point out a few things to you.

We are granted a certain amount of privacy in our lives under the Constitution of the United States of America. You may have heard of this document; people like you have been attempting to warp and subvert its intent and meaning and generally wipe your over-tight asses on it for decades. This right, granted to me by our adored forefathers...the same forefathers ignorant cow-fuckers like yourself routinely invoke to bolster whatever idiotic, half-informed opinion you cook up in your addled pates regarding How America Should Work (And Probably Be A Purely White Nation To Boot)...means that I can expect that what I do in my own time will have no bearing whatsoever on the security of my job so long as what I do in my free time does not directly impact the performance of my duties.

Are you following me so far?

Excellent.

In my (not so humble, well-informed and well-educated) opinion, it is people like you...nosy, uptight "crusader" types...who are endangering not only America, the land you claim to love so much, yet so patently don't understand, but the entire world. You, dear [Asshatted Fuckstick] are, in fact, a terrorist.

Yes, I said "terrorist".

With your threat to "inform my employers" regarding my choice of clothing worn outside the bounds of my work, you sought to terrorize, to instill fear, so that I would fall into line with your thinking of what is "right". These are the acts of terrorists and militant fundamentalists like the Taliban.

So, I encourage you to contact my employers and inform them of my choice of dress in my private time. I will, in turn, report you to the Department of Homeland Security.

Let's see how you like having *your* freedom limited.

Sincerely,

A Finer Human Being Than You.

P.S. Neener neener fucking neener.