Agreed.
That said, “The T?” 
ETA: Toronto, maybe?
It’s the name of the subway in Boston.
Oh jeez, politics and religion. My mother came to visit this weekend, and wouldn’t rest until she picked a fight about politics. At midnight. I kept my mouth shut until she began mistaking her opinions and impressions for facts. That’s my kryptonite: don’t start telling me that employment is down, income is down, etc., when those are easily disproven with fucking facts.
By 4:30 am, I had been accused of hating veterans because I opined that Vietnam was, perhaps, not America’s most justifiable war, and that men of draft age who used legal means to avoid active duty were smart, not “draft dodgers,” IMHO. I had been “informed” that Desert Storm veterans were literally spat upon when they returned stateside. (No. No they weren’t.) When I pulled up per capita income for the US, adjusted for inflation, and showed the maternal unit that income is actually trending upward, I was told that no, those numbers were misleading. Her belief is that there are about a brazillion illegals here in the US, receiving social welfare benefits, but not being counted in the population figures used to calculate per capita income. Because apparently, math is the second thing to go, immediately after reason.
I finally tried again to put an end to the discussion as civilly as I could, using a phrase commonly used in my family: “I might be wrong, and you might not be right, eh?”
At that point, literally seconds after I said those exact words, my mother said “You’ll never admit that you might be wrong, and I might not be right, though!” (Maybe hearing is the third thing to go?)
I called my mother Annette - my grandmother’s name. Because my mother sounded just like her own mother at that moment. (Unreasonable old bitch!) Not my proudest moment. I hurt her feelings, and I should have bitten my tongue.
If she’d started with religion, I’d have been forced to smother her with a pillow…
Another round of applause for Arabella Flynn, ladies and gentlemen. Well done.
Circus hoopers are fairly common in companies like Cirque du Soleil, and I’ve even seen a few perform in things like figure skating shows. There’s a lady named Deanne Love who does a lot of tutorials at hooplovers.tv, if you’re curious. One of the ladies who got me started is Lolli Hoops, part of the Boston Circus Guild; I suggest you search for her yourself, because she is also a burlesque artist and tends to be a little too naked for me to link to directly. 
She’s not difficult to find.
(Thank you, thank you all, for the praise. I run through some variation of that rant every time I’m down there, I swear. For the curious, I live in the Boston area, and the pedestrian passageway in question is the one in Downtown Crossing, which is narrow and full of stairs for them to clot on.)
The next time a stupid motherfucking driver attempts to pass my daughter’s bus while it is in front of my house, I’m going to report him to the police and post his fucking license on my Facebook page. Wait two minutes and let the poor little four year old get on the damned bus.
People suck.
I teach at a university with one of the top-ranked medical schools in the country (and a billion dollar endowment). You’d think with the medical resources available to them, they might be able to provide a semi-decent level of medical care for students.
One of my students was told that she was fine and didn’t really have anything wrong with her. She had to drag herself to urgent care to find out that she had a sinus infection, strep, and pink eye.
Good job, SHS.
Damn, steroids are bitter.
Have you seen your own twitter banner? Hummina hummina hummina.
I developed a technique of getting some water in my mouth first, then popping the 'roid and managing a quick swallow so the thing didn’t touch my tongue.
I hope they help (I’m guessing they’re for your shoulder) and they don’t make you feel buzzy in your head and angry like they did me!
Uhhh, I don’t think you’re generally supposed to chew them.
Hope they gave you a smattering of relief, though.
I’m wearing an entire leotard in that, thank you. And some leaves.
Lolli, if you can believe it, tends to be even nakeder than that. And usually very sparkly.
Hubs is having hot flashes. A quick google search says that its very common for men of his age and that it will pass. Its possible that I will kill him in his sleep first.
First he throws the blankets on me and I get hot so I kick them off. 5 minutes later he’s cold and fishing around for the blankets and steals mine. THEN he tosses them back on me. Wash, rinse and repeat all night long. Sleeping with cats is much easier because once they settle in, they sleep for the night. I can order the dogs out of the bedroom. Making hubs sleep in the guest room isn’t an option, so I guess the only thing I can do is smother him with his pillow.
I’ve never heard of men getting hot flashes. Consider some ignorance KOed.
Sounds like you may have to take the approach my MIL did to FIL’s snoring, and relocated to the guest room yourself. I’ve been known to land on the couch when DH is having a rough night (he claims our couch is too short for him to sleep on).
My parents started sleeping separately in their 50’s. Between Dad’s snoring and Mom’s hot flashes, they were not sleeping well and it came out in weird ways during the day. The rooms share a wall so it’s not like they’re far from each other, and both have queen beds so there’s plenty of room for, er, visiting. The third bedroom is office/guest space. They’re much happier with each other and it’s been at least 10 years.
Dear crunchy granola FB friend:
Whenever you make a post about removing fluoride from the water all I hear (read) is “blah blah blah our precious bodily fluids.” Please remember that *Dr. Strangelove *was a satire and not a documentary.
Do it! I deem this particular instance to be an acceptable form of internet shaming & citizen vigilanteeism.
Hard to blame them; life’s been rough.
Another option: YOU sleep in the nice, quiet room with the un-tossed around blankets all arranged just how you like them, with your choice of feline and/or canines for company & foot warmers, and your beloved butthead just a few short feet away in the next room.
Life’s too short to not get decent quality sleep.
Prednisone was the worst part of chemo for me. I bought cheap white bread, wrapped a pill in it, mashed it flat, then swallowed it whole. If the thing touched my tongue I would gag. I always wondered why they couldn’t put a cheap sugar coating on the damn things.
Well, my time is up. I have to start dialysis. Fuck.
I’ve given up on my donor. She’s not going to come through. She’s had 8 months and done NOTHING.
So now I have to wait for someone to die in order for me to be healthy again. I have tremendous amounts of guilt, knowing that.
I am so sorry you are facing the prospect of such an unpleasant medical procedure. That sucks.