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

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If you ask me for help with something at 4:45 p.m. and I immediately respond "Sure!"... DON'T FUCKING SIT THERE AND NOT TELL ME WHAT IT IS YOU ACTUALLY NEED.
I'm picturing you sitting at your desk typing this out while the dink is sitting behind you looking over your shoulder. :cool:
 
Dear bus-riding humanoids of the Greater Puget Sound area:

Warm weather has FINALLY arrived, yay! This means that we all have to pay a little more attention to our grooming. In other words, a daily hygiene routine is NOT OPTIONAL. Wash your bodies and your hair with SOAP and/or SHAMPOO on a regular basis, i.e. at least three to four times per week (but preferably daily) as opposed to the NEVER that is clearly your current habit. Please also make friends with some antiperspirant/deodorant. Nobody wants to smell your rank-ass funk, especially in close quarters on public transportation WITH NO AIR-CONDITIONING!

Also, when you're done snacking on those cat turds of which you are clearly so fond, please brush your goddamn teeth, tongues, and the roofs of your mouths. Your breath could knock down a water buffalo at 50 paces. Ugh.

Failure to comply with the above demands, which are eminently reasonable, will result in being hosed down with a stream of Febreze shot from a Super-Soaker.

Yours etc. etc.
La Chile
 
Dear uterus:
I realize that you have this thing you have to do every 28-30 days; however, making me feel like I'm going to die from an alien bursting through my abdominal wall is NOT productive for either of us.

Dear OB/Gyn:
I curse you for listening to all the "data" which says that I, as a 41 year old woman, do not have the right to choose to have my uterus removed. I'm sure there's some logic behind your wanting to keep me miserable, but you have yet to give me a valid reason to keep the unused (and unaccessable due to the tubal ligation) organ.

Dear Self:
Next time you're aware that Aunt Flo is expected for an immanent visit, PLEASE remember to reload muscle relaxers in your purse. A rusty spoon is an unnecessary (and messy) alternative.

No love,
Indyellen
 
Who the FUCK burned popcorn in the break room microwave?

(Actually, that's not true: I know exactly who it was. New Gal, you're officially on notice.)
Oh, lord, you have my deepest sympathy. The only thing worse than the smell of microwave popcorn in the office is the smell of scorched popcorn in the office. No, wait, the only thing worse than that is cooking fish in the office microwave. She'll probably do that tomorrow.

Well, I found another number and made my hotel reservation. The other number never returned my call at all. That's professional.
 
I have a somewhat sparse part of the side of one of my brows due to over-zealous plucking when I was a teenager. Yet those encroaching hairs between the brows and moving down the soft it-still-stings-when-I-pluck-there ridge above my eye? Oh, those don't stop growing back in...

Oh yeah, of course! If you overpluck a spot one time, it'll thin out immediately. But if you continually pluck a spot you don't ever want hair growing in, it will just keep coming back.

See also: Cat Whisperer's reply.
 
Dear Teenaged Daughter -

I realize that you are largely unmotivated, and how at the start of the summer you thought it would be cool to have one more summer "off" instead of finding a job, which is what we wanted you to do. I realize that family issues have prevented you from going out job hunting as such, and now you have 6 weeks until school starts, making you a less attractive employee.

However, if you don't SHUT UP about being "stuck" in the house every day, when you didn't listen to Stepdad & I and find a job BEFORE school let out, I'm going to smack you one of these times. Get a job walking dogs, or babysitting, or something. Or volunteer at a homeless shelter, or a hospital, or something else. Good Grief - clean your fucking room while you're there, since you're tired of us bitching at you about it.

Find some fucking motivation and DO SOMETHING instead of whining at me about it on a daily basis. I'M not keeping you trapped in the house, locked away from everything. If you showed some fucking motivation, maybe I'D be more motivated to help you finish getting your driver's license (even though we both volunteered to drive you to jobs if necessary).

Sooner or later you're going to have to wake up and realize that people aren't always going to do everything for you, and that sometimes you have to work at a job you don't want to, and that demonstrating some motivation in general, not just about stuff that you like, will get you much farther in life than whining.

But what do I know? I'm only your mother. :rolleyes:

Oh how I feel your pain, being the stepfather of a very similarly responsibility-handicapped teenaged girl. Except my wife and I get the added bonuses of prescription drug abuse (Oxycontin), cigarette smoking, promiscuous sex, staying out all night instead of coming home when she's supposed to, her telling us "fuck you" and various other sundries to our faces in front of our young boys, the police constantly at our house ("hi neighbor! why are you slowly stepping away from me?") and a level of apathy towards her alleged loved ones that is breathtaking.

On the brighter side (I'm 90 miles east of you in the 'Nati), the weather the last few days has been gorgeous! Mid-70's, no humidity...its very un-July like.
 
Based on this post (↑), could she have looked at your latest email instructions, saw a block that looked similar to a previous block of text with the alternate instructions, got it into her head that it said what the other email(s) had said, and all communications from her since have been based on that inappropriately-made leap?
 
That's why I refuse to mention Standard or Daylight in any times I give. I just say Pacific Time or Mountain Time or Arizona Time or whatever. Even for a date in the future, it's not as if there's two time systems in effect on November 24 or anything.

As long as you're not booking a meeting with anyone in Europe. There are 3 weeks of difference between when we change and when they do thanks to the latest date switch here in NA.
 
Oh, and not to mention: "stomach" is at least as inaccurate as "belly" is infantile. Call it an abdomen, if you're going to get serious about that shit. Unless you're referring to the sac that digests stuff, in which case, go ahead and say stomach. But I'm guessing you're not.

I am precisely talking about that, especially in instances such as "I need to get some food in my belly" or "I need to fill up my belly". You know what happens when you assume.

While we're still on this pointless subject, Tahssa, the difference between "gonna/ain't" and "sammich" is the authority figures in question saw the former as denoting ruffian/hooligan slang, while the latter is just cutesy.
 
Crap this sucks, the wife of a murdered cop who was 9 months pregnant when her husband was killed, delivered her baby yesterday. It was stillborn.
 
Maybe she has a serious nutritional deficiency that's making her crazy.


My husband thinks this may be the case, I think she's the type of person who becomes really excited about things. It's like a person who is 'saved' who then becomes more militant than many people who have been Christians their whole life.

Maybe I should create a 'having a breakdown over my sister!' live journal instead of spamming the dope (though it's nice to know that other people see the disconnect).

This is tough on me. On the one hand, her views are so offbeat that I have to laugh (And get angry. And then get so upset that I want to cry. And then laugh again.) Yet, the whole thing hurts. Because I want to think of MY SISTER as a rational person. Someone I can connect with and respect.
 
Whee! Some time this afternoon I get to go get my mother from the emergency room.
I love phone calls that start with "can you come get me at the hospital later?"
It would appear she collapsed at Costco, and the paramedics were rather insistant she go with them.
I am hopeful that she was honest with the medical staff, and revealed the likely reason for her collapse - the EXTREMELY restrictive diet she is currently on. I have a funny feeling she won't tell them though... (for lunch Wednesday she had an apple and two pieces of melba toast. That is a snack, not a meal. I was with her for 5 hours, and that's all she ate.)
Sigh.
Normally not a huge deal, but with two small children in tow, and trying to get the house ready for the 40 people I'm having over tomorrow for breakfast it's a bit of a pain.

Unless of course there's something really wrong and she gets admitted and I'm a total asshole for feeling put out.
 
I worked at one job where files kept getting added to by people stapling on and stapling on and stapling on - I used to take the files apart, staple the appropriate documents together and put the whole thing back together with a bulldog clip. The files looked AWESOME when I was done with them. I used to get 20 or more staples out of one little pile of papers - it was just nuts.
 
Stupid fucking Baltimore 800 fucking miles away mumble mumble. Stupid fucking government job making it impossible for Dave to work remotely. Stupid fucking my job making it impossible for me to work remotely. Mumble grumble.

Say that his first thought on hearing about the issue was that he was going to fire our entire 60+ person department.

Is there any way you or someone else in the department can kick it up back up the chain so this idiot hears how many shades of retarded he is from one of his bosses?

(Honestly, how hard it is to cut and paste a form email to even a few hundred people? Has no one heard of mail merge?)

Have you ever actually done a mail merge in email? I can tell you for a fact that Lotus Notes does not have a native mail merge utility--at least not the version of it that my company uses. (And this is a global company with tens of thousands of employees.) So, yes, replying to each of the hundreds or thousands of applicants to tell them, "Thanks, but no thanks," could well require more time than they have available.

IME, it behooves the applicant to follow up if they haven't heard back from the potential employer within a reasonable timespan (I'd say about a week, unless whatever ad you're replying to specifies another timeframe).

The HVAC is out in my office's building today. They sent around an email - y'know, I didn't need to be told that it's hot and stuffy. I knew the moment I walked in the main door: "WTF? I can't breathe!"

No, but you did need to be told that they knew about the problem. Even with the mass email, I'm sure they got at least a dozen calls/emails about the problem.

If we're in someone else's house, their rules apply unless they're threatening the safety of our children or the bounds of good sense. As such, if my mom says it's okay for our son to have a lot of toys on the floor with the understanding that he'll be responsible for picking them up later, there is absolutely no reason for you to threaten to take some away unless he cleans up now.

Hrm, it was always my impression that it should be a mutual-respect thing, such that if the parent thinks it's important that the child do X, even in other people's homes, then the host should respect that.

(where is my fucking drink when I need it?)

C'mon over and I'll buy you one.
 
Ugh. Why the fuck are people such nosy fucking assholes? So, I was at a large chain hotel today for a national conference. Said hotel didn't have a lactation room, even though they regularly host local conferences (i.e., lots of people who wouldn't have a private room to go to).

So I was advised to use the public bathroom. Definitely not my first choice. But whatever - I can't do anything about it, all their cubby offices have windows to the hotel, the conference I was attending was national so there are hundreds of attendees and room is at a premium. My car is a few blocks away, so no time to go all the way there to pump under a blanket or something. I'm screwed.

After having to continuously answer the loudly-bellowed question, "Oh, my gawd! What is that sound? Do you know what that is? We should report it to maintenance! Where is it coming from?" I was a little pissed. But do you know what really pissed me off? The women banging on my stall door while I was pumping asking me what the noise was. Goddamn it! It's bad enough I have to pump in the toilet. Will you fuck off and give me some goddamn privacy?

I swear, the next time I hear someone taking a shit or talking on their cell phone in that bathroom, I'm going to start banging on doors and demand to know what the racket is.
 
I don't even really want to rant about this because it seems like my life is so focused on it right now and I hate it, but two things happened today that are upsetting. First, I call the fertility clinic I've been referred to to make sure they have my correct phone number and I asked how much longer I need to wait to get the consultation appointment call. They'll call in December or January. Nice. Well, I guess another seven months of waiting doesn't matter after two and a half years of trying. :(

Secondly, my old clinic (who referred me to the fertility clinic) has allowed me to do a run of fertility medication for three months while I wait to get into the fertility clinic. I am to get blood work done on day 21 (today) to check my hormone levels/how strong my ovulation was. I went in with the lab requisition after work and my doctor hadn't filled it out properly, so I couldn't get it done. Now, normally I wouldn't freak out, but this is just another in a long list of fuck ups that clinic has put me through since last fall. If I can't get them to fax a new one tomorrow (they have a history of not returning calls), then I'm SOL for this month and if I'm not pregnant, then although we have medication for next month, any needed adjustments won't be made. :(

I'm just getting so tired of the waiting game. I wish I would just get knocked up already.
 
Having just driven halfway across Canada and back again, I'd like to remind other road users of a few things:

-- Self-propelled RVers: You're driving the equivalent of a city bus. Learn how to drive it correctly. You are sitting forward of your wheels; remember that, and you will turn corners without going up over the curb.

-- Again, for self-propelled RVers: If you're towing your car, remember that you are effectively drining a fifty- to sixty-foot combination. I learned how to professionally drive a sixty-foot combination, only it was called a "semi-truck." You might benefit from a few lessons, so you don't think you are driving your combo the same way you'd drive that little car you're towing.

-- RVers towing trailers: Make sure your tow vehicle has enough engine to tow your trailer. Nothing like following such a rig on two-lane blacktop uphill, when the speed limit is 90 km/h (55 mph), and you can only manage 60 km/h (35 mph). And no passing lane in sight.

-- Cyclists: It's great that you're out seeing our country from the road. But remember that in a car-cyclist accident, you will lose. Most cyclists I met were terrific folks to share the road with--I'd pull into the passing lane if I could for them, and if I couldn't, I rode the centre line as much as I could, and they were appreciative with friendly waves. But where it was impossible (two-lane blacktop, 90 km/h, with opposing traffic), I'd ask cyclists not to ride beside each other. Ride single-file. When you ride beside each other, I'm standing on my brakes so the opposing traffic, and I, and you two cyclists, are not trying to occupy the same portion of the road at the same time. And all I get for my efforts is the finger from one of you. Inasmuch as it would be satisfying to have you, Finger-Man, join the dead bugs on my windshield, I will not do so. I will, however, ask that you be as aware of the traffic, both with you and opposing, as I have to be, and adjust your path appropriately. We can all pass each other at the same point in the road if we recognize the limitations we're each dealing with.
 
Oh. My. God.

Earlier I'd referenced a cluster-fuck of a project that both drives me to tears and makes me furious. The lastest you-have-GOT-to-be-kidding-me moment is this: There is a technical problem involving Excel. I've been going back and forth for three fucking weeks trying to get a solution from them. "Try this". Nope, doesn't work. "Ok. Try THIS!" Nope, doesn't work. "Huh. Trrrrryyyy THIS!!". NO! It doesn't work! It never works! Stop telling me to try shit that doesn't work!

Today I mentioned that maybe it's because I have Excel 2007, and that even though I'm saving my docs as XML Spreadsheet 2003 as required, maybe this is something endemic to Excel 2007?

"Oh, you have 2007? Well, that's your problem right there!"

You mutha FUCKERS. You couldn't have thought to ask me that three fucking weeks ago?

"Ok, here's what you do. Try this. If that doesn't work, try this."

Guess what, shitheads. It. Doesn't. WORK.

What does work is when your office submits the spreadsheets. Can we please please please stop fucking around with these non-solutions and just have you submit them? Christ! I know you have to bill us for that. I will take the heat from the CEO, just fucking do it!
 
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