Did you use those exact words? As in, “You’re costing yourself a cool 70 grand if you don’t do this rightfuckingnow!”
No, I didn’t…I was too angry to do the math!
BUT! I just got an email from the realtor saying, “I just spoke to your Brother. All is fine!”
So…WHEW, but also, what a miserable pain in the ass he is. This is just the tip of it. If we weren’t siblings, I would have nothing to do with him. A number of people have told me since my mom died that I have to work on repairing our relationship, but fuck that.
Also, since I’m here: Fuck people who want me to repair my relationship with my brother, when they know 2% of the details. They have no idea what he’s really like when he’s not being charming. He’s a non-criminal sociopath.
thanking the Universe (again) that my family is fairly sane
My miniest of rants? I hate the last half hour before I go to work. Not enough time to do anything but be bored.
Ah, well - at least I do have a job…
snipped
Not breathing isn’t really a good thing. I’d be totally ticked off if my doctor just blew something like that off. Maybe you might remind him that dead patients don’t pay their bills?
No money and no lunch sucks. I could live for a week on the snacks in my desk, but you are a contract worker. Do you even have a place to stash stuff?
I probably used the wrong words to talk about the spilled seed beads in the rug. I spilled the very tiny beads from a kit and by the time I managed to get the cats locked up, the beads were between the threads, so I used the toothpick to pick them out.
Bill is just teasing me. He’s the one who thought we got engaged when I dropped everything to nurse him back to health after his surgery. I did the announcements today, used his CC number and then texted him to say what the charges were for and that we were officially engaged. He texted me back to say that it wasn’t official until we knew that our cats would get along. I guess he’s right, if the cats don’t approve, its all over!
I do like your positive attitude. My commute to work takes about 40 minutes, so I leave early to be sure I’m on time in case of traffic problems. I usually get there about 20 minutes early. That is wasted time because I can’t try to do chores because of worries about problems in the stores. I love to read, but I can’t relax with a book because I’m just wasting time.
I still haven’t found my pocket knife. I just know that if I buy a new one, the missing one will suddenly appear. OCD girl spent almost an hour going through my car, so I know its gone. I’ll buy another one tomorrow, but it will not be the same.
She gets paid the same; she’s paid a salary, not a fee per task, and by Social Security, not her patients. Guess I just found a downside to UHC.
Man literally a block ahead of me on the sidewalk this morning: You were upwind and the only person in sight, so I knew it was you who was the source of that scent of men’s cologne. You are wearing too much. Ideally, I shouldn’t be able to smell anyone’s perfume/cologne unless I’m close enough to be hugging that person.
Identity confirmed when you walked into the (small) train station and stank up the joint, BTW, so I wasn’t wrong.
Watch out: It will be sharp!
Is this time you’re at home? Then you could use it to knock off a mini-cleaning/straightening/decluttering task. You know: dust everything in one room, or vacuum a couple rugs, or fold and put away a load of laundry, or deal with that pile of mail you dumpted on the counter yesterday, or bundle the newspapers for recycling, whatever.
Yeah, not fun, but it frees up an extra 10-15-20 minutes later on in your day when you CAN do something longer and hopefully more fun.
And you can get a surprising amount of household tasks out of the way in 20 minutes a day. I deliberately do the “one pomo” (25 minutes) on cleaning each day. The reward is that my “weekend cleaning” now consists of mopping the kitchen floor and cleaning the bathrooms. That is, instead of it seeming to devour the whole day, I’m done with it in about an hour!
Bonus Tip: do NOT tackle anything that requires cleaning wth a bucket of water. You WILL end up having to change your clothes.
This week is not going well, so far. My morning sickness put in a surprise return, at 23 weeks of pregnancy. No more pizza for breakfast for me until the baby’s born, I guess. 
* 6.02 * 10[sup]23[/sup] Pregnancy already took away my ability to have coffee, alcohol, and ahi tuna, and now this, too? Is it going to keep up until I am deprived of everything I enjoy?
Fuck Windows for allowing spaces in file and directory (what you Windows heretics call “folder”) names! Before some jerk at Microsoft decided you should be able to use spaces in file names, people didn’t use them. I still don’t, because all right-thinking people know it is an abomination against all that is good and right in the world to have spaces in file names. A SPACE IS HOW THE FUCKING COMPUTER IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT ONE FILENAME HAS ENDED AND ANOTHER HAS STARTED, DAMMIT! I didn’t think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows.
We’re refinancing our mortgage again. Overall, this is a good thing, but goddamn it, I hate dealing with all the paperwork it involves. I hate it with the fire of 6.02 * 10[sup]23[/sup] suns. Of course, I’m not working at the same place I was when we did this the last time, so now I have to figure out a whole new system to get online pay stubs. This system will undoubtedly both suck and blow, they all do.
Mr. Neville has been having early-morning teleconferences this week, which means I’ve had to wake him up. Sometimes I wake up grumpy, most mornings I let him sleep. Not this week.
Double post, 'cos I’m in a bad mood today. Deal.
I pit the jerks who drove like fucking idiots to get out of the traffic jam I was stuck in this morning. There was a major accident, and traffic on the freeway I take to work came to a complete stop for a long time. Yes, that sucks. But, you morons, that does NOT give you the right to pull over onto the shoulder and back up until you get to the last exit. I saw several of them doing this. What was really scary was, I also saw other entitled jerks driving along the shoulder, trying to get ahead of as much of the traffic as possible. I thought for sure I was going to see another wreck happen as I watched. And we won’t even talk about the maniac who drove across the grassy area separating the freeway from the exit ramp. Really. Where did you people get your driver’s licenses, from the guy in the dorm who was making fake IDs? How the fuck did you manage to live to adulthood with so little common sense?
Honey, I love you, and I appreciate that you are willing to do our taxes. But you and I both know that you won’t be able to get them done on time, and you won’t even file for an extension until right before the deadline. We both know you’ll make me nag and nag you to file for an extension. The problem is, tax time always comes near Passover and the end of the semester for you, so you know you won’t have time to do them when they are due.
Why the fuck don’t you either do them earlier (you have from January until April, you know), or let me take the tax stuff to someone else and pay them to do it? It’s not like we’re desperately poor and can’t afford to pay someone. It’s not shameful to pay someone else to do them, you know. I finally talked you into having a housecleaner come every two weeks and having a landscaper, and anyone who has any grasp whatsoever on reality would have to acknowledge that things are better than they were when we were trying to do those jobs ourselves. You acknowledge that you don’t know how to fix the car or the plumbing when those break, and you let me take those to professionals. Why are our taxes so different?
It’s not so bad. There’s a grocery store across the way with a good buffet (Wegmans, if you’ve heard about it), and while the card wouldn’t work in the convenience store ATM, it worked for purchases, so I ate. And it’s back working in ATMs (which I’m told are on a different communication line from purchases, or something like that, which is why one worked and the other didn’t.) I figured I’d be able to eat, I was just annoyed at having made the lunch and then not having it. 
And I may be a contractor, but I have a cube of my VERY OWN here. This particular company treats its contractors like actual human beings. I like it here; I just wish they’d get their act together on whether there’ll be a contract extension.
I wish even more that they’d decide they couldn’t live without me and hired me, but I don’t see that happening. 
I’m pissy on behalf of TheKid. Prom is coming up and she has been over the top excited for the past six months. She has her dress, her shoes, her hair planned… and no date.
She asked her best friend to go, we all thought it would be a no brainer. Of course not. That girl’s father is a total jerkwad: “You already went to your prom with a girl, why the hell would you want to go to a different prom with a girl? That’s not normal. It’s embarassing. No.”
Dude, who cares if her date is a girl? I would much rather they go together than to have TheKid ask a guy she’s not dating. She would have a blast with her best friend, have good memories, and the friend knows many of TheKid’s classmates. But, we know what the real issue is. If she goes out on a Friday night, that means you would actually have to stay home and watch your youngest child, rather than sitting your ass at the bar from 7 - midnight as is your usual routine.
TheKid and I have gone through a list of possible others to ask, none are people she would really want to invite. She’s distanced herself from her old group of “friends” - she’s straightened herself out, they haven’t, and she has no desire to play their games. She could go solo, but once there would end up being the third wheel to those she does still associate with.
And, to be selfish, I’m personally pissed as now I have to deal with TheKid. I’ve suggested screw prom, she can get all dressed up and go out to a nice place for dinner and a concert with someone else. Or we can run away for the weekend. “I don’t knowsigh”. It’s going to be a loonngg few weeks until prom is come and gone.
Attention, all dickfaces in my office building: the bathroom stalls—which you may have notice are limited in number—are for shitting in. Not for playing Angry Birds, or reading your Dave Ramsey book, or counting the liver spots forming on your flabby pudendum, or whatever the fuck else you’re doing in there that doesn’t involve evacuating your bowels. Here’s a handy guide:
- Sit
- Shit
- Wipe
- Flush
- Get the FUCK out.
Oh, and guy in the stall beside me whom I could hear leisurely turning the pages of a fucking newspaper— I hope you enjoyed the sounds and smells of my explosive diarrhea. I even squeezed out couple of extra-loud splattering farts, just for you. It would’ve motivated *me *to find a less revolting lounge in which to peruse the day’s events, but you seemed to be unfazed. Different strokes, I guess. Next time I’m going to piss on your shoe.
The only guy I’ve seen go into the men’s room at our office is The Big Cheeze Himself, so I’d keep your piss to yourself if I were you…
MissTake, how much do you want TheKid to go? How old is the other kid?
Any chance that you could invite BF and sibling over for the evening and let them go to the prom while you watched movies (or something) with younger sib?
I dunno if it’s feasible, just a thought I had.
Hope everything works out.
Is he the only one with a restroom key, or does everyone else shit on a strict schedule?
Missing:
4a) Brush if needed.
4b) If there has been a 4a, flush again.
4c) If there has been a 4a, replace brush in its holder.
I would like her to go, since she’s wanted to for so long; however, watching the sibling is out of the question as the dad does not like me. Why, I have no idea.
Last night went okay, much discussion about her choices this year, why she’s distanced herself from so many, her current spat with another girl who she used to be close with - it turns out I’ve raised a daughter who has incredibly low tolerance for those who fuck up, which I don’t quite understand (I thought I had taught her forgiveness).
At this point, I guess we’re running away the night of prom, taking a small road trip.
I have NEVER seen a public/business bathroom with a toilet brush. 
So that isn’t a beard groomer? Uh oh.