P word?
I think it worked out better this way, actually. 
There is roofing tar stuck to my driver’s side front tire and I want to punch someone because I can’t get it off. And it seems to make my car drive odddly, my steering wheel vibrates.
Reason one of a trillion why I will never, ever get pregnant. 
(If you’d like, one of tonight’s beers shall be in your honor - either a German wheat beer or a pale lager, your choice.) (I’ll be drinking anyway, and will feel like less of a raging alcoholic if it’s for a reason, however flimsy.)
Uh, related: Holy shit I spent that much money on beer last month? Time to start drinking something stronger.
Fuck my mortgage company. They didn’t send me or my ex the tax information about our house until the end of fucking March and now I’m in full panic mode because I have to get my income-based repayment forms out to CFI late because I just now got my taxes done. Guess what I’m doing during my down time at work today?
I like either, but have a slight preference for wheat beer.
Agreed. Let’s add to the list those that walk up to a conversation and just wedge themselves into the middle of it whether they actually have anything useful to contribute or not.
My cat’s breath smells like cat food.
What should it smell like, cat shit?
That’s unpossible!
No. That would be the dog’s breath.
We get multiple sets of keys for all our vehicles. One for me, one for my wife, and a spare set in case of loss/emergency.
You know, when someone is bewailing their fate, it’s generally polite to be at least a little sympathetic while explaining how it’s all their own fault and if they were as smart as you, they wouldn’t have this problem.
Sorry about your Easter, Lacunae.
I have several issues:
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I have a giant fucking zit forming on the side of my neck. It is hideous and disgusting and one of those things that will probably take its sweet time going away whether I pop it or not. And it’s nice and super visible.
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My bank card expired. I probably have a new one around here, but since I do all my billing online, it never occurred to me to look for it. So it’s probably in one of the many piles of mail I have around that I haven’t yet weeded through. So now I have to actually read the fucking things. I hate mail.
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I just got another call from school about my son. They have a rule where if the kid misbehaves three times in the same day, they have the kid call the parent. I can appreciate that they’re doing this and keeping me informed, but at the same time when I asked him what he did wrong, he said he didn’t know and that the teacher hadn’t explained it to him. The teacher agreed that she hadn’t explained why he’d gotten in trouble. How the fuck is he supposed to know what to correct if you don’t tell him what he did wrong in the first place, dammit?? We’re having issues already, at least give him an opportunity to learn from his mistake!
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I hate my workplace. Hate it, hate it, hate it. It’s toxic and stupid and I just. Want. Out. I’m looking, but so far nothing but a few interviews here and there.
So I didn’t get to make the police report yesterday. Some other poor bugger was having was having a shit time and they needed the female detective more than I did. Hopefully I will be able to do it today.
Don’t let that be a reason to put it off … and then put it off some more … then just, not get around to it at all …
We’re rooting for you over here, madrabbitwoman.
I get the impression that you’d really like to learn the ukelele; that’s fine, everyone should have a hobby, it’s a pleasant way to unwind after a long day. Learning to play any instrument does take a lot of practice, as I’m sure you’ve realised by now, and fitting that in to a busy schedule can be a little tricky.
I must admit though, if I lived in a flat with terrible soundproofing, (which, in fact, I do; indeed my bedroom is directly below yours), I would maybe think that the most appropriate time to play said ukelele is probably not THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING.
Many sympathies… I get those too sometimes and I really really hate them. And they hurt! And sometimes they get to looking like a hickey… :mad:
Have you tried “Tend Skin”? It’s actually for ingrown hairs but it seems to help the monster neck zits. Smells kind of like pickles though.
While I’m here, fuck my joints. It’s bad enough that I already have two bad knees, a bad hip, and a bad shoulder. This morning I wake up feeling like someone is stabbing me in the elbow with an ice pick. I finally have insurance so I could go to the doctor, but I have no personal/vacation time yet. Can’t afford to take a half-day off to go sit in the waiting room.
Oh and Facebook is down for me. I’m trying to follow my hockey team on the road and my only way to know what’s going on is the live blog on Facebook. Dammit…
Police report is done. I feel washed out.
I am getting a kitten friend for my cat this afternoon. Hopefully she will be a good distraction.
I just got a bewildering email from a local filmmaker. A couple of months ago, he put out a casting call for a short film; I submitted for a role in it. He replied and said I was too young and not beat-to-shit-looking enough for that role (…yay?), but sent me the script anyway and said to read it and see if there were any other roles I thought I could do. He mentioned that this was an offer he rarely made.
I read the script immediately and liked it. That same day, I replied, saying that if I had my druthers I’d take the main character (naturally), but if that wasn’t in the cards I’d be happy to play a certain minor character. I ended by saying we should discuss it further. Last I heard from him. I put it out of my mind.
Today, I got a tetchy email from him saying I’d been removed from the list of possibles because of something I’d pledged to do and not done in a timely manner. WTF? I have NO idea what he’s talking about. I went back through my e-mails to and from him, and the sum total of our back-and-forth is outlined above. I emailed him back asking for clarification, but who knows if he’ll bother to reply. Now I have to worry about some director out there bad-mouthing me, when I can only think he’s got me confused with someone else. GAH!
I am housesitting for a friend while she’s out West with her brand new granddaughter. I’m caring for 4 cats, 4 mini goats (including a baby who insists on being a lapgoat - some of my cats are bigger than this baby), three dogs, a mini donkey, a horse and a bird. And an insane rooster who eats catfood and swoops at me off the porch railings.
My rant? My friend’s middle daughter:
I know your baby died within a day of his birth from genetic problems. There are not words to express how my heart hurts for you. I also know you have a long history of being resentful of your older sister. However, pretending her daughter doesn't exist will not bring your son back. Being hateful - vicious, even - to your little sister because she posted a picture of her new neice on Facebook will not bring your son back. Being a cast-iron, goldplated bitch to your mother will not bring your son back.
You are driving away the people who love you. And, please, in the name of the Goddess, please do not get pregnant again. You know your doctors have told you and your husband to have genetic testing done before you try for another child. You have been told the problem more than likely rests with your husband. YOU KNOW THIS. Do not let your pain and envy cause you to conceive a child who may suffer the same problems as your first.
End rant.
Thanks for letting me get that off of my chest. My friend has tried to get her daughter to go to counseling, but she refuses. It’s all so sad.
Flatlined, we’re all invited to the wedding, right?