Whew it's hot out here! Summer Mini-Rants

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Dear skin: Why?

It's bad enough you plagued me with acne in junior high, it's bad enough you were pale as a baby's ass when I was in high school and all the other girls were tanned and gorgeous. I'm at least grateful I can use about 2% of the world's known population of soaps without breaking out, and I've learned to manage my two different kinds of eczema, but why, for the love of god, are you allergic to the motherfucking sun?

This spring, I could maybe handle a day outdoors as long as I slathered on the sunscreen, tried to keep in the shade and rested for 48 hours afterward. Now that it's summer, I cant fucking do anything outdoors. The 15 minute walk across campus today damn near killed me, though I imagine the fact that I was forced to wear a long-sleeved hooded sun-protective jacket in 94-degree weather probably wasn't helping. I'm sure those pedestrian double-takes were stares of admiration. :rolleyes: I wake up in pain because my bed is directly facing a window. I feel sick at the end of every day. Now I'm gonna have to buy some shitty curtains and a ton of UV protective clothing and basically spend a fortune just so I can drop off a goddamn movie at Blockbuster. And I'll be hot and miserable while doing it.

Fuck this shit. What I need is a panacea. I want to play outside.
 
Avarie, that well and truly sucks. While some things are replaceable, I know from experience that musical instruments are not. After being hit not once, but twice in the space of a single week (probably by the same assholes) I think I'd want to move.

I have been sick, like flu sick, for six days straight, and I don't appear to be getting any better. I have a racking deep chest cough, can't sleep without choking on my own phlegm and I am bored out of my fucking mind.

If it weren't for my husband I don't know what I'd do. Today he is bundling me up in the car and taking me for a ride so I don't go stir-crazy, then he's going grocery shopping so I don't starve to death. Love him, I do.
 
I don't know, marmots sounded funny. Seriously, the sidewall is absolutely trashed - one spot looks like a sort of flap was dug up with a puncture in it, and one part looks like it got attacked with a sledgehammer. I wish I had a picture - I've never seen anything like it.
 
If the answer to the question "Are you drunk?" is "I'm not sure", then YOU SHOULD NOT BE DRIVING.
 
Shot From Guns said:
Honestly, the sheer incompetence of most of humanity never ceases to amaze me.

ETA:

I suppose it would be more accurate, and also more depressing, to say that I have ceased to be amazed by the sheer incompetence of most of humanity. :(
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I'm told that a lawyer once said, "Your honour, my colleague's ignorance of the law surprises me."
The affronted judge said, "Come, come, surely you can rephrase that."
"Very well," the lawyer said, "my colleague's ignorance of the law doesn't surprise me."

Nava said:
Is that so difficult that you can't do it? And why are you making compulsory fields such as "landline" and then reject any phone number listed there which doesn't begin by "9" (hello, like almost half the people in Spain, I do not have a landline you can call me at, plus anyway I do not want you to call me)? Why do you require a fax number? Who the fuck still uses faxes? Oh, wait, I know the answer to this one: utility companies. But you're the only ones! Why do your CSRs go into mode when they try to get me to fax some documents over and I ask for an email address instead?
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Christ, not even back in the day could you just require someone's fax number, as if they definitely have one.
 
Why the hell did I do something stupid like eat McDonald's for breakfast?? I know better to do that to myself, but dammit, I was hungry! I scarcely ate yesterday since I was tending to a sick kid and skipped dinner because I was exhausted. I haven't had McD's in about a year, but this morning I didn't have a chance to make breakfast before I was out the door. Now I'm in agony, complete with icky, gurgly stomach, cramps and an oogey back of the throat from too much grease. And I'm stuck at my desk, catching up from an unexpected day off. Next time, I'll just forgo food or eat the homemade fruit jerky I keep in the car for my son. This shit just isn't worth it. I guess my salad can go in the fridge (at least I had enough foresight to pack lunch last night, not that it'll do me much good now). Bleh.
 
I'm watching "Parking Wars" on tv*, and I'd like to send a big raspberry out to the attendees of the big Baptist convention who got all offended and huffy and self-righteous when they all got tickets because they were all parked in a no-parking zone. Your reward might be in the next life, but in this life, you still have to obey the signs.

*Yeah, I'm bored and waiting for my husband to get mobile so we can finally freaking DO SOMETHING!
 
Today's mini-rant:

Fuck you, people who leave giant, yawning gaps between their car and the car in front of them, especially in the left lane, and double-especially when there's a left turn lane coming up. Dude, I could parallel-park a friggin' Humvee in that space you left, and I wanna catch that precious left-turn arrow before it turns red and I have to sit through a really long-ass light cycle. But noooo, you're in my damn way. Ooch up, already! MOVEIT! MOVEIT!!! Roll forward, you stupid space-taking-up cow of a human!
 
I hate weddings. I'm never going to be in another one until it's my own and that one is going to be as close to courthouse and barbecue as I can get it.

One of my good friends is getting married. I'm a bridesmaid. Long story short, she recently (after I bought my $160 dress and another friend- the ringbearer's mom- bought his little suit and without asking or mentioning it to any of us) decided to switch her wedding to a destination wedding in the middle of October. I'm in college, btw. I work a job that pays $0.50 above minimum wage. Even if I could begin to afford to go, I can't just take off for a week in the middle of October. So that sucks. I said I couldn't go and asked what she wanted me to do with the dress and she said wear it to the reception she'll have when they get back. Fuck that- I already own dresses I can wear to wedding receptions and they sure as hell didn't cost me $160.

*eta: most of us are in college or recent grads, actually. And this particular friend is ALWAYS complaining that she has no money. I don't know where she expects any of us to get this money, really.

Anyway. That's only part of the rant. Now, the bachelorette party. So first, I'll reiterate- I have a job that pays 50 cents above minimum wage and requires me to work almost all weekends and many/most evenings. Hours are a little flexible, but really not very. So her maid of honor is planning this bachelorette party that is supposed to go on for three days and include clubs, hotels, and a live show. It's going to cost each of us $170. It's this coming weekend, which a) is Fourth of July weekend and b) is going to be crazy due to the show, (along with c- my co-worker who has been there the longest is leaving for a month on Thursday and d- groupons just game out, but those are things nobody who doesn't work with me would know) so I can't possibly take the whole weekend off.

So I made plans for the show if nothing else and asked for time off work for it. It's supposed to be Saturday night, so my boss scheduled me to work Saturday until about 5. Okay, cool. That way everyone's happy. Until yesterday, I get an e-mail.

They've switched the time they're going to see the show. Now it's the matinee. How nice. Now I have to figure this out all over again- the matinee will go from about 3 PM to at least 5:30 pm or so. The earliest shifts at work end at 3 and the latest ones begin at 5. The only way I can swing it all is if I work the very earliest shift, either come in to work dressed and ready (and pray that I don't drop chocolate or anything on my clothes or mess up my hair) or go to the show in my scrubby work clothes, and beg to be let go an extra half-hour (at least) earlier. There isn't anyone else who can just take my shift without switching.

This fucking sucks. Not only are they going to be mad at me for having to blow them off, but I'm out another $75 that I won't even get to use. I'm going to talk to my boss today about the possibility of letting me off at 2:30, but I really don't know. And I don't want to be a bitch about it because obviously the party and the wedding are not about me and shouldn't be planned to accommodate my pain-in-the-ass schedule, but it still sucks for me.
 
I work nights. I sleep days. I live in Vegas, in the desert, where it's 100 degrees high on the coolest summer days, and frequently over 110.

My wife turned the air conditioner off because she didn't want to waste electricity while my son played outside, while I was asleep, in the hottest part of the afternoon. I woke up cooking in my own sweat. What the fuck was she thinking?
 
I have to work with someone who drives me insane again tonight, then again tomorrow night. I don't know if I'll make it. She never stops talking. If she's not talking she's coughing. You know what she said to me last night? "You really are short, you know that?" Yes, I know that! How can I fucking not know that?! If the not being able to reach stuff on high shelves without a stepladder and other people towering over me weren't clues, I have idiots like you to inform me every day of my life!
 
All of you, please please stop it. Just stop it. Do not call me and when I answer say, "Hey, it's me."

Guess what. All the women in my life and pretty much most of the men sound exactly alike on the phone. Especially if you're calling on a cell phone. Are you my sister? My boss? A friend? Which friend?

I don't know who the fuck "me" is until way too long into the phone call, ok? It's embarassing and stressful for me. And frankly, it's kinda rude on your part.

As Faith No More would say: Introduce yourself! (Who are you?) :mad:
 
Just start responding to "It's me" with "Who?" They'll get the picture sooner or later.
 
The niece I mentioned in post #249 is staying with the "fiance" (whom she has "known" for all of four months, online only) for a couple more weeks. He bought her a car and also bought her the plane tix.
All I can say is that if she elopes and ruins her life, I'm not flying out there to rescue her.
 
Wile E - I would look her straight in the face and go, "I have a theory about you."

And refuse to tell her - then when she finally pesters you enough, look her in the eyes and say, "Someone lied to you as a child and told you that if you ever stopped making noise, you'd die. Well, I'm here to tell you - it's just not true. In fact, the opposite is true. The more you talk, the shorter your life span becomes. Trust me, us short people know these things."

Then walk away and start working on something else.
 
kaylasdad99 said:
Well, I had asked for a prescription for a pain reliever that was a little more robust than OTC naproxen. She told me to lose weight instead.
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Sort of makes my point for me. A pain-killer masks symptoms and allows the underlying condition to get worse. Losing weight might allow the condition to improve on its own. Which sounds like better medical practice? To relate back to the original post that you were commenting on, if the only reason you see the doctor is to get a pain-killer instead of finding out what the problem is and what steps you can take to make it better, you might as well not go in the first place.

I would apologize again for the continued hijack, but this thread has devolved into a miserable back-and-forth about punctuation and diction (which means choice of words, not proper enunciation, by the way). So this is my mini-rant for this thread: please, enough with "sammich" and punctuation squabbles. How about some more mini-rants!


Roddy
 
Shot From Guns said:
Just months? You can pluck that shit for years and it will keep coming back. Always and forever, if mine are any indication. (Sounds like they don't grow as far to the middle as yours, but the parts I do pluck have never stopped growing.)
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Damn. :smack::smack:I'm not sure how long it's been that i've been plucking my eyebrows, but it's been at least four or five years. :confused::confused: They bug me. I plucked them again last night but i don't keep track of how often i do this, :mad:generally seems to be twice a month :(:smack:
 
Sorry, didn't read. Came in here to say this:

It is fucking hot out there. I hate heat. I hate the way it makes me feel (grungy, sweaty, sticky, nasty, CRABBY), I hate the car being a goddamn oven when I get in it; I hate drinking so much liquid in a vain attempt to cool off that I slosh when I walk. I hate the sinus headache I get from going in and out of AC; I hate the fans running all damned day, pitifully trying to cool off the house. I hate having to wet my hair down every morning in order to stay even somewhat cool; I hate sweat stinging my eyes and the wrung out feeling I have at the end of every day. I hate summer, I hate heat, I hate it, hate it, hate it.
 
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