My geriatric (18yo) indoor-only cat got out once and was finally found almost three weeks later, severely malnourished and dehydrated, but otherwise ok. He lived to be 20. Cats are resilient. Glad to know Percy’s ok.
Cats’ll do that to you. I’ve had cats come back after *weeks *of gallivanting. I’m glad your wanderer found his way home.
When I was stationed in Germany, I had a cat. I had to come back to the US for a month and my roommate was taking care of him, but while I was gone, Cat disappeared and never came back. My friends said that my roommate had had a big spaghetti feast while I was gone, and they wondered if he cooked the cat in the spaghetti. 
I just want to send a big FUCK YOU to the teenage punks who thought it would be funny to squirt me with water while I was walking down the sidewalk.
I think I’ve encountered those same teenage punks. They’re the ones who laughed their asses off when I slipped in front of my house and almost cracked my skull open on the stone pavement. And when, dazed, I struggled to get back up, they just laughed and kept walking.
But did you see your face? Oh, man… if only you’d been squirted, too…
jk*!*
I pit the asshole who at what seems like the same time every day rides his extremely loud motorcycle by our house. On top of that said motorcycle asshole stops at our intersection and revs his engine several times before gunning it down the street. Its warm out, our windows are open so now the noise is twice as bad. It scares the cats, wakes up anyone who might be napping, and makes the entire house shake.
Hey Evel, would it be too much to ask you take your noisy smelly douche-machine down another street once in a while? Or better yet, buy a muffler? Trust me no one thinks you are cool or tough because your motorcycle is loud.
If not then at least make another loud noise: when you scream for your worthless life after you wipe out your shitty motorcycle all over the local highway.
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My husband has been having some car trouble and we’re at the fix-it-or-replace-it point. He posted a Facebook comment about his frustration, giving the make and model of the car, and the fact that the repair isn’t covered by the warranty. He didn’t slam the manufacturer or the dealer.
His boss texted him and asked him to delete the post, because the company is a supplier to the automotive industry. The manufacturer isn’t one of their clients. Apparently “somebody” thought it was inappropriate. My husband revised his post, making it much blander, but not good enough. They had a fraught conversation, and he finally agreed to take it down, but he is very, very angry. I’m worried they’re going to have it out on Monday morning and he’ll either get fired or quit in a huff. I agree that the boss is overstepping, but I don’t think this is a hill big enough to die on.
I’m really worried.
Presumably, you have a vested interest in this problem, too. Also presumably, your own Facebook account. Make your husband a deal: he makes nice with his boss; then, two or three weeks later, after the hubbub has died down, you post the rant on your own page.
This time, the boss has no leg to stand on.
I’ll try. But the rant isn’t even that much of a rant! He’ll probably say it’s the principle of the thing, and he’ll be right. I just hope he calms down between now and Monday morning.
Remind the jerk that loud motorcycle = small penis.
Your husband and I would suggest just about anyone might want to create 2 Facebook pages—one for work and one for non-work friends with a “private” setting so only those non-work friends can see them. I’ve done this and it has worked well for years. I post political and other goofy shit on the “private” page, and work related and safe-for-work stuff on the “work” page.
Asshole Alert! There is a new rival to Little League Parent: Easter Egg Hunt Parent.
http://www.mcall.com/opinion/white/blog/mc-egg-hunt-mayhem-20170414-story.html
This isn’t really even big enough to be a mini-rant, more like micro-rant, but it’s not worth a thread of its own.
No. Singing the Hallelujah chorus a capella on no notice is not an obvious choice.
Backstory: I sing in a church choir. Mid-way through the first service, our accompanist got sick (throw-up sick) and went home. There was another pianist in the house, and he was grabbed and begged to play the last anthem. The Hallelujah chorus was skipped at that service.
Back-up pianist cancelled his other commitments for the morning and stuck around and played for the next two services, proving truly phenomenal sight-reading skills. (I’ve always known him to be an excellent pianist, but most of the time he plays by ear or memory and improvises, so I didn’t know how well he could sight read).
We performed the Hallelujah chorus at the last service, when timing was not an issue. My assumption is that had the original pianist not gotten sick, we’d have sung it at all three, but I can’t say I miss singing it at the others.
This reminds me of the time my Dad asked my sister with no advance notice to sing Ave Maria at a big party they were having for my parents’ anniversary. I knew she probably hadn’t practiced that one in years and she didn’t want to try it, as it’s not the easiest thing in the world to sing, but she didn’t want to disappoint Dad. I finally suggested she do There is a balm in Gilead instead because she had done that one recently and it’s a lot easier. Dad was happy with that, as he was just so proud of her singing.
We sold our house and have not been able to purchase a house.
Last week I went and looked at some apartments. The Daniel Court Apartments.
I’ve had freaking Elton John stuck in my head ever since!:mad:
God it looks like Daniel,
Must be the clouds in my eyes
aaaaahhhhhhh!
Dear dogs,
PLEASE do not give me a heart attack - stay inside the fence.
Thank you,
~The Management
My grandfather passed away a while ago.
A semi-public figure, I wasn’t always able to prevent myself from seeing certain “triggers,” as people who saw the news stories would contact me, asking me if we were related. I didn’t like to talk up the connection, because it seemed like it was name-dropping, but through him, I attended some amazing events, and met some fascinating people.
But, now we’re coming up on the memorial service. I finally think I put all the emotions behind me, and we’re gonna pick at the scab all over again. (There are many good reasons we had the delay)
I pit myself for not working on my speech at the service (a three minute thing, where I’ll mainly crib from a FB post I made about his legacy, both professionally and personally), as well as not digging through all my photos to send some to my family to be added to the slideshow that will be playing before the service.
I’ll be traveling across the country for the service, and will get there more than a few days early, and so I need to know what to pack. Not sure if we’ll work on cleaning out the house, spending all the time with my grandmother at the assisted living facility, or doing our own thing. I keep asking my father, so I’ll know what to pack, but all I ever get in response is, “We’ll be busy.”
Well, yeah, I figured as much, but I don’t want to pack a lot of nice clothes if we’ll be spending a lot of time in the basement packing things up, and I don’t want to pack “manual labor” clothes, if we’re gonna be meeting people, going places, etc.
I hold that anyone that loves the Hallelujah Chorus has never sang first tenor for it. I don’t know if I can squeeze my balls tight enough to get through that anymore.
and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
Still stuck :mad: