Fucking assholes in Israel:
Grown men who pick on eight year olds because they’re female should be doused in menstrual blood and set on fire.
:rolleyes:
Tiny dicked, bullying bastards shouldn’t be allowed near women.
MY husband has been home on vacation for THREE LONG WEEKS. I thought he was going back to work tomorrow; no such luck, it’s yet ANOTHER f’ing holiday screwing up the trash pickup (yea or nay? no one knows, the office in charge of such information is closed, though I suspect a day’s delay though I have been sadly surprised before) and I have no money (bank is closed) . As is the post office and library. GOD I HATE holidays, grumble grumble…It’s entirely possible my husband has forgotten where it is he works, and it’s entirely possible none of his work clothes fit any more (mine sure don’t) - Tuesday morning will be a Chinese fire drill around here.
I know it’s really for the best to have gas leaks checked out promptly and thoroughly, but 14+ hours of excavating and stuff starting at 7 am on New Year’s Day, right under my bedroom window, and I am not a happy camper. Especially with the incessant scraping and backup beeps resounding through my ear infection.
Someone gave me a cold. I’m this close to detaching my nose and just leaving it in the sink to drain. I hate runny noses so much. I just want liquid to stop coming out of my face. Please.
Can’t say either way on that one since I’ve never been there!
I just started playing Words With Friends. I love words, love word games, love Scrabble, this is right down my aisle. However, why must so many people be illiterate fucking bastards that can only use 3-letter words?! That’s not fun! It limits the board to a very annoying and frustrating degree! Stop it!
Dear whiny-ass co-worker: if you ever again threaten to “anti-freeze” a neighbor’s dog because you stepped in a pile of shit I’m going to bitchslap you. Even threatening to kill a dog is not funny. Sure it sucks to step in shit but that’s the owner’s fault, not the dog’s. And I’m so sorry you were wearing your $150 pair of shoes (and I love how you brag about how your five year old son has a similarly expensive pair of shoes). You wanna know something? You wouldn’t be able to afford those things if you weren’t getting so much assistance from the government for being a single mom. Must be nice to be able to use your entire paycheck for extravagances since the rest of us are footing most of your bills. Fuck you.
Mom, wasn’t there a woolly hat inside this coat’s hood? Oh yes, I’ve put it away.
Mom, wasn’t there two piles of plastic cases on this table? Oh yes, I’ve put them away.
Mom, wasn’t there two keyrings, a wallet and a cardholder on this tray? Oh yes, I’ve put them away.
Mom, wasn’t there a wrench on top of the toolbox? Oh yes, I’ve put it away.
Mom, wasn’t my drill charging here? Oh yes, I’ve put it away.
After two days of this, I’m reasonably sure that if the cops ever ask me “wasn’t your mother here” and I answer “oh yes, I’ve put her away”, my brothers will understand. At least this time she won’t do it with my passport… the one she put away eighteen months ago and which I unearthed last week, when I cleaned a corner of her house which hadn’t been cleaned in nine years. It’s hidden in my Kindle’s cover; she finds the Kindle scary.
Are you going to start yelling at the stewardess if she asks you to stop playing during takeoff?
I’m watching the Rose Bowl Parade with my mom.
I swear I’m going drive down to Pasedena, sneak up behind Al Roker and smack him in the head every time he says something stupid. (Which is at least once a minute). His cohost his fine. He’s not funny. (We’re taping it on two channels, we’re going to watch the other one tonight).
I’m watching the stream on KTLA.com. Bob Eubanks and Stephanie Edwards have to be the two most self-absorbed people on the planet.
But my real beef is the overt commercialism. Microsoft is selling Kinects, and Farmers is selling insurance. You’d think that stuff would be downplayed, but it’s not. When I’m Queen of the World, corporate-sponsored floats would not be eligible to win trophies, or there would be another class. Because this is just silly.
Take a wooden spoon, it will save wear and tear on your hands. Or take a broom. My husband’s mother used to hit him over the head with a broomstick on occasion, because that’s the ONLY way she could get him to understand that something was serious. I’m thinking of getting just a broom handle for this purpose.
It seems like last year they talked a lot more about what the floats were made of, but I think that was KTLA.
The La Canada Flintridge float, with the pig pilots (which is a cliche I could do without). Roker’s comment? ‘I smell bacon’ Graarrrrgh!
And they keep asking for tweets. I’m vaguely tempted to sign up just to tell him to STFU. (What I’m actually going to do is continue to only half pay attention)
I’m not sure I could handle my husband and kids for three weeks. Three days is stretching it. On their own they’re ok. But all together and it’s a little hairy.
Another parenting related mini-rant: I absolutely hate listening to parents bribe their children to act appropriately in public. No, I’m not a great parent sometimes. But it still makes my blood boil. My kid was waiting for some other kid to finish playing with a toy today at the Magic House in St. Louis. His mom started offering him candy, ice cream and new toys because apparently he’d been playing with the toy for 10 or so minutes while turning away a stream of kids who had asked to play with said toy. Finally she managed to get her kid to leave after promising him a new train from the gift shop. Gah.
Of course, my kids were hardly stellar today. My son ran off without me across the parking lot on the way out of the Magic House and, as a result, I lit into him like no one’s business because he scared the living shit out of me and is old enough to know better.
Then when we got home - late for naptime, mind you - my daughter wouldn’t go to sleep and my husband (who’s probably sick of me and the kids, too and clearly stressed out as well) started yelling at her to sleep while putting her down for me. Not very relaxing. So she lost it. I try really hard not to intervene, but he was getting really mad, so I came in, kicked him out, calmed her down and she went to sleep. Sadly, we still have several more hours 'til dinner and bedtime.
Typically we all deal with minor annoyances somewhat well, but my daughter has entered the terrible twos early and we all seem to be a little more frazzled now on vacations than we had been. Calm my house is not.
Every single tree that had been planted at the local Superstore parking lot has been broken off at the base. I guess just spray-painting every surface available and etching swear words into the bus shelters (and breaking their glass) wasn’t enough any longer. I think I need to believe in karma, that the people who do stuff like this will get their just reward some day.
I don’t have small kids any more, but I remember the uproar when they were home on a loooong winter break. All I can say is, the days crawl, but the years fly, and you will look back and miss those days, lol!
As for the vandals at the Superstore, I DO believe in karma, and they WILL pay for it. They’re paying for it right now, being such pathetic losers, and as they continue on their low path, it’s only a matter of time. Bastards.
You are in the frozen wasteland. They are using the trees for firewood. This is a common problem in Phx as well.
Someone I work with liked to buy live Christmas trees and then plant them as a windbreak. She was horrified to get home a week before Christmas and see that all of her trees were cut down. She lives in the city. I can understand how this could have happened to me, but how could a crowded block full of people not notice pickups and chain saws in someone’s yard?
I’d appreciate being acknowledged while shopping.
I know I’m a girl standing in the hunting/fishing section but you don’t just walk past me on a search for something for someone else, look me in the eye and raise your eyebrow. First rule of retail, acknowledge the customer even if it’s just to say ‘I’m helping this person, I’ll help you in a minute’
When he was done he came back and asked if I had been helped! No, of course not. I just stood here for ten minutes to look pretty while my boyfriend went to buy something. Fuck off, just unlock the cabinet for the knife I want and let me buy it and maybe I won’t stab you through the eye with it.
I’m so with you with this one. Oddly enough, I get it at the part’s stores. They look at me, then at the guy standing in line behind me and ask if they can help him. Usually, the guy behind will say something about not being with me. If he does, I tell him to go first because obviously my boobs mean that I know nothing about my bike. If he just moves ahead of me, I say something rude about me being first and that the behind guy can wait his turn while I try to convince the clerk to look past the boobies.
I get very good service at the gun stores. All eyes are on me as soon as I walk in the door. I think they are waiting for me to ask for pink grips for my cute lil purse gun, but as soon as I open my mouth they know that I know what I’m talking about.
The reverse is true as well. I love to do fancy, intricate embrodery. I like the victorian stuff with beads and ribbons and pulled threads. When I go to such specialized stores, they look at the biker and go off to help someone else, because of course I’m just there to look at gromets or use the restroom.
I would be the person looking at the guy and going uhhh I want the whatchamacallit shaped thingamajig (been in a parts store a few times like that) and guns I’d glaze over since I don’t know much and only shot a couple times years ago. How you look shouldn’t matter (I do knitting myself, I have some good stores here but heard horrors about how some ladies treat younger ones).
What got me this time was the fact he met my gaze, stared right at me and didn’t even acknowledge I was there beyond the raised eyebrow. I’ve worked retail, pretty damn shitty retail at that, and that was the first thing they taught us to do. It was worse somehow than being ignored to chat with a coworker.