To the thief who stole my broken bicycle pump: Um, thanks?
Seriously — what were you thinking? I suppose a handy person could have repaired it with some time and effort, but not easily. It was in a semi-private area (in front of my car in a locked apartment-complex garage), so you had to make a little effort to get it. I note that you did not steal of the stuff piled in front of my neighbor’s car; less portable, I guess.
I don’t care about the broken bicycle pump, but the reminder that people can and will steal stuff from me was sort of a downer.
Jobs applied for in the past month: 23.
Interviews offered: 4.
Interviews for jobs I actually want: 0.
Interviews for jobs which will not, in fact, pay me anything but a sub-minimum-wage subsidy: 1.
Date I need to begin to repay student loans: June 1.
Cumulative amount of student debt: $40,000.
Utility of my buttfuckingly expensive degree: None.
Chance of gainful employment anytime soon: None.
Perceived appeal of investing in gun, one bullet: Growing.
A-fucking-men. My house requires four different styles of halogen, in five different wattages, and two types of regular bulb; one bayonet, one screw. Several of the fittings are inaccessible even with a ladder. It speaks well of our landlord that this is probably his biggest failing, but there are still times when I would like to slay him for his lightbulb fetish.
I can’t wait until everything is LEDs, and we need never change a bulb again.
Last year, my library hosted early voting for the election. At one point the board of elections geniuses put a sign outside alerting people who needed assistance with curbside voting (wheelchair users, etc.) to call a number. The sign read “Need curbside to vote call 704-xxx-xxxx.”
There are four people covering my old position at work. One is willing but fairly new, so she doesn’t know much about it. One is dependable and knowledgeable, but works only part-time. One is undependable; constantly vanishing for long periods or calling in sick. The last (and supervisor of the other three) is hardly ever to be found on the premises for a myriad of reasons, and when she’s here, stirs up more drama than she’s worth.
So it’s just me and willing newbie today, doing my old job instead of my current one, and when I’m out all next week I hope you’ll all enjoy being well and truly fucked. I wouldn’t be so pissed if this didn’t happen all the freaking time!
Why-oh-why can’t the goddamn janitors start the fucking roll! You do your business, reach for the toilet paper, and it hasn’t been started. And it breaks your wrist to reach up and under, spinning the frickin’ giant roll of cheap-ass paper (cheap ass-paper?) in vain, looking for the “start.”
This morning I left a pile of shreds on the floor, and even ended up wiping with shreds!
I swear I’m gonna make a sign for the ignorant assholes.
Speaking of being out next week, this is a very badly timed trip. My husband’s ex-wife will probably die while we’re out of town, causing us to return almost immediately. (If it weren’t for the business meetings, we wouldn’t be doing this at all). While we’re gone, we leave behind a very unstable household: his two kids and my two with their various problems, three animals who are likely to get sporadic care, and my wonky, opinionated mother to look after it all. I have to grocery shop, do laundry, pack, go to Target, clean the house, and board the other dog before we go. I hope I make it to the library. There’s just a whole lot of things going on here and at home, and I know I’m forgetting stuff. This is the least joyfully anticipated “vacation” ever.
And, the people who made an “appointment” to see me at work today couldn’t be arsed to nail down a time… Grrrr! Grrrr to you all!
My alarm failed to go off and I overslept by TWO HOURS. How is that even possible? I’ve gone like 15 minutes over before, enough to miss the bus and ruin my day, but my body clock always kicks in at some point before TWO HOURS. That’s two classes, one of which I have a paper due today in and now I’m trying to figure out if I should come up with some kind of excuse or just tell her I overslept and missed the bus. I do have the paper done… it’s part of why I overslept, I’m sure, because I was up late working on it.
Plus I woke up with a horrible, splitting headache and don’t want to go to the one class I’ll still be able to make and don’t want to spend ~5 hours on the bus for a 1 hour class.
Shouldn’t that last line read “receive no sex education except what mix of correct and mis-heard/-remembered information their friends from the other two classes pass on”?
Why the hell did you get rid of your macadamia-cashew butter?
OK, I understand your business model so I know WHY, but couldn’t I at least have gotten some warning, so I could buy a few jars? Now it’s gone forever :mad:
Work-Related:
Whoever is constantly peeing (and sometimes it’s not only pee…) on the seat in the first stall, please stop. It’s always the same stall, so I’m assuming it’s the same person. And it’s definitely pee, etc, not backsplash from flushing. Our toilets aren’t that powerful, and it’s bright yellow. There’s so much I can’t imagine that this person doesn’t walk around all day with pee on their legs and shoes, too.
Two rants in one day? Yep, it’s one of those days.
Idiot students attempting to use IM to ask questions of me at the desk: I have some simple requests.
Use real goddamn words, not your fucked-up abbreviations. We are Olde People and we like to have things spelled out.
When I ask you what particular information you would like to find on your topic, do not reply with “journal articles.” I said WHAT not WHERE you ignorant motherfucker.
Please make sure you’re typing in the right window. Replying “srsly r u a fking idiot” is not a good idea. Replying to that with “sry, talking to sum1 else” is not making me lower my eyebrows. Here’s the minimum information you need. Watch your digital mouth if you want more specifics.
The necro-obsession this spring by major league baseball (and the reporters covering it) has gotten tiresome.
Yes, it was tragic that an up and coming young pitcher (Nick Adenhart) died in a hit and run accident. It’s fine that his memory was honored at the ballpark. The articles and commemorations and psych evaluations of his team have been going on for weeks now. Enough is enough.
And while Jackie Robinson was a courageous pioneer and a terrific baseball player, the annual mandated tributes and fussing are overdone. This year we had all the players wearing his number for a day (the number 42 has otherwise been permanently retired for all teams). There are Robinson events for a chunk of every season now. What will MLB do next to expiate its old racist sins - have a moment of silence for Robinson before all games? Require his image to be painted on the outfield wall in all stadiums? Name every ballpark Jackie Robinson Field? (wait, can’t do that, there’s no money in it, better stick to our corporate sponsors, at least until they go bankrupt or are indicted).
Let’s have an end to the MLB guilt tripping. Play ball!
I wasn’t going to mention Phillies’ long-time (and now deceased) broadcaster Harry Kalas - until I saw video of the ballpark tribute to him, which included stationing his coffin behind home plate. Sheesh - why not preserve him in Lucite or something out in the food court?
