You are an exceptionally intelligent woman. You are able to manage an entire office and hundreds of clients so efficiently, you only have to work three days a week. You are the only person I can’t beat at Trivial Pursuit. I love you, but I have two requests:
When you call me and ask me to help you with a computer problem, listen to what I say. Sample conversation:
Me: “Okay, do you see the START button, in the bottom left hand corner?”
Mom: “Yes.” (clickaclickaclickaclicka)
Me: “Did you left-click on the START button?”
Mom: “You told me to!”
Me: “No, I asked if you could see it. I was going to have you right-click on it…”
Mom: clickaclickaclicka
Me: “What are you doing now?”
Mom: “That error came up again, so I closed the dialogue boxes.” (Please note, she actually knows that they are called dialogue boxes. For some reason, I find this incredibly infuriating.)
Me: “The same dialogue boxes you were calling me about?”
Mom: “Yes”
Me: “What did they say?”
Mom: “I told you, I just closed them”
Me: “I have to hang up the phone now because I love you” Click
Secondly, please stop falling for rich drunks. Twice you’ve found out that money can’t buy happiness. I’d like to keep my respect for you please.
Go ahead and indulge in your hobby. Wash your hands with antibacterial soap until they bleed, if that makes you happy. But don’t insist that I do it, too, and don’t tell me that it’s my fault if I get sick. I don’t expect anyone else to be interested in engaging in my hobby (computer gaming), so don’t expect me to engage in yours.
I wouldn’t let students I see all semester long test without their instructor’s signature saying he or she passed the class. There is no way in hell I’m going to let the guy you were calling me about ALL FUCKING DAY (!) take his test without that signature. I know how to do my job, thank you very much, and a large part of it is covering my ass. If that axe comes down, it’s not coming down on me.
Love, BA
P.S. He wasn’t even your student directly, so make that a double fucking hell no.
A few more to add (apparently we DID need some tiny rants!) -
People who drive while watching tv. I’m sorry, is this high-speed, dangerous traffic BORING YOU!?!
Radio stations that cut off the last 20 seconds of a song. The song ain’t over til it’s over, and I don’t listen to the radio for the chatter and commercials.
I had a third one, and now I’ve forgotten it, so I’ll just insert a generic tiny rant against my aging brain.
This one has been annoying me for ages. You can slow down without hitting the brakes! It’s not brake-gas-brake-gas all the time, you asshole.
Then: You always used to have crappy cars, you bitch. Now that you finally have a nice one and I have a crappy one you suddenly get snotty about my car? “Are you really going to park it there? Where everyone can see?” Go to hell.
To my coworker: When you asked if I had a sec, and I told you, “Not at the moment,” I really didn’t. I was working on something and had people waiting for me to finish it so they could deliver it to our customer for approval. If you want to get all bent out of shape over it and go over my head, go right ahead and do so, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop everything in the middle of a rather fiddly project to answer your question, especially not when I’ve got a driver standing by. That doesn’t mean I don’t like you or I’m trying to be obnoxious. It just means that I’m rather busy at the moment. Sorry.
To my body: quit playing around. If you’re going into labor early, just freakin’ do it already and quit giving me signs so I’m not sure if I should worry or not. I’d really prefer this baby stay in another week and a half, though, so if you could just KNOCK IT OFF, I would appreciate it.
To my mom: STOP FREAKING ME OUT. Every time I call you is not a free-for-all for you to tell me I’m probably going into labor! A cough is not a sign of labor!
To whatever bug snuck in yesterday when I opened the door: I saw you, bitch. I was leaving for work, so I didn’t have time to mess with you, but I saw you. I dare you to come out. Your ass is mine. I know you’re hiding somewhere in the mud room, and if you’re a spider, you’re gonna feel some heavy boots on your ass when I see you. Of course, I can always just hope the cats ate you first.
WTF? Do you also not have time to clean your butt, you idiotic non-savvy computer user? When I see the way you treat your PC I want to take it away and give you a steno pad. People like you don’t deserve such a nice piece of equipment. But the mouse thing is just over the top. It’s YOUR food, YOUR skin bits, YOUR hair. Clean it the fuck up.
.