Me first** digs**!
Bill parked behind me this morning. He’s not happy that my bike takes up his place in the garage and he’s being so passive aggressive about it that I want to bitch slap him.
I honestly do think that the problem is that he doesn’t want me riding, because we can just push my bike to the side of the garage and he will have room to park.
Or he can just add on to the garage.
I think the idiot who did the design for this place drove a Smart car. If we took everything out of our one garage, the only way out of the vans would be the back hatch.
Ffffffffuck!
So… Last October, I finally decided to once again try something I loved when I was younger. To wit, theater. I auditioned for and got a part in MacBeth, and I loved it. I also loved the cast and the theater company. Because of that, I tried out for the next show, and the one after that, the later opening this Friday. I got parts both times.
But I also got sick. Real sick. ER-room sick. Several times.
We open in two nights. After the illness of this evening I can no longer pretend that I don’t know that something in the building we use is making me ill, and on occasion, life-threateningly so.
So, tonight I wrote a letter to my director and withdrew from the show (after a talk I had with him a few weeks ago, he knew it was a possibility and has been understudying for me). I’m out. Three days before performance. And because of the building, I’ll never be able to work with that troupe again. People I’ve grown to be friends with. People I really -love- working with.
Fuck this. I feel like absolute shit. Why does my health have to be like this?
Okay, leave me out.
My mother used to nanny for my niece and nephew. Still goes over there and stays when my sister and BIL are out of town, such as right now. Always wants me to come over when she’s there and hang out or go out for dinner with her and the kids.
So I call on Tuesday. I call on Friday. I call 9am Saturday morning. No answer, no one returning my calls. I call again at 11:30am and leave an angry message that I’m done trying to call since no one can answer the phone or return my calls.
A half hour later I’m at my parents house talking to my dad. He calls over there. My 15 year old nephew immediately answers the phone. Says he’s been there all morning, but grandma and his sister are out and about.
I hear nothing. Yesterday I even called my own phone from my office phone to make sure it was still working.
Last night about 8pm I get a call from my dad, saying I need to call my mother since she’s been calling me constantly and I won’t answer. I call back 5 minutes later and he doesn’t answer me. I check the number he called from. Yup, their home number. So I call a second time. Still no answer. So I leave a message saying that I don’t know who mom is calling, but she isn’t calling me and I have no interest in calling her at this point.
About 10 minutes later I get a one sentence email from her. “I can’t call you, please call me”. Oh fuck no.
An hour later I get a second email, telling me that she’s been calling me left and right, had the kids call me, had my older niece call me and I’m not answering the phone. She vaguely remembers that my number might have changed, but doesn’t remember what it is.
Seriously? My number changed three months ago. I gave it to her. I gave it to my nephew. She’s called me on it more than twice before. My father had no issue calling me. My number would still be listed on my sister’s caller ID, right there on the face of the house phone. WHY THE FUCK does it take her a fucking week to finally get around to emailing me that she’s fucking clueless and has been calling the wrong damned number? In my answer, I asked why she couldn’t have bothered to ASK my father or my sister what my number was for a full week, or have emailed me sooner.
Fucking pissed. At her and my nephew. I sent him a message 2-3 weeks ago. No response. I’ve called him once or twice over the last 6 months. No answer, no response. I emailed him a couple of times in this period. No response. Seriously, fuck him. I’m fucking cutting him off.
You may want to talk to the troup about it, whatever is causing you to get sick is probably affecting the rest of the troup. Mold comes to mind as something you may be sensitive to, but others may not react as strongly to.
Missed the edit window. The above post was for ** ArrMatey **
I’ve recently had to stop my work due to my health, so have had to apply for unemployment benefits, the kind where you’re still available for work (I am - just not this work). Made an online application last week and they insist that they sent me a text message with an appt date, but I’ve received nothing. Had to do the whole thing again and will probably lose that week’s money.
I’m also trying to apply for disability benefits (the kind that are for those in work or not) and I knew the form would be long - on page 68 so far - but I didn’t know the site would crash every five minutes and not save.
This claim will probably be denied. 60% are and then succeed at appeal; unless you are so disabled that a social worker fills the forms out for you, you will, essentially, almost always have to appeal.
My GF has never had to deal with anything like this and thinks it’s all easy and I’m just inventing problems.
Then there’s my former ISP billing me despite me as if I were a current client having cancelled and changed to a different company.
I’m so, so exhausted and just don’t have the energy for this. My brain feels like the battery’s low. 
The jury deliberated for six fucking hours and still found my client guilty. What the hell were y’all talking about for so fucking long. I was hoping for a hung jury, at least. Now my kid is going to get sent back to Ghana and face certain death.
After my massive work week with insane hours on my feet (running around on my feet, too, not just standing) on concrete floors and half in weird work boots that have no support, I expected everything to hurt.
I woke up in the middle of the night before last because the pain was so bad. Thought I’d get up and go get some ice packs and found that I couldn’t stand unassisted. I eventually developed sort of a painful shuffle to get around, but it’s still agony. Even turning over in bed is difficult.
Both legs hurt and are fairly weak from the feet up to the hips. Back hurts, but not so badly, and my wrists hurt, but they’re obviously functional. Worst are my knee on the right and my achilles tendon/lower calf on the left. I had thought with a full day’s rest, I’d be ready to go again, but they’re no better.
I’m going to have to go to urgent care, I think. My left ankle is grotesquely swollen and my toes are numb on that side. How am I supposed to work when I can barely walk? I’ll have to see a doc, at very least, because I really can’t call in after two days off and be like, “I can’t come in because my feet are tired.”
This is such bullshit. I had so much I needed to get done.
It’s registration day for Girl Guides.
And yet again, the system crashed repeatedly - leading to extreme stress for me and the families trying to register their girls. I think I’ve gotten forty emails so far this morning, and I can’t help. We’re a popular unit in a popular district, and my moms know that if they don’t get theirs girls in ASAP, they’ll miss out. And then the system crashes. Or lets them get halfway through a registration, and THEN crashes. Sigh.
For the love of god people stop putting grape jelly on your meatballs!
Because I’m 12, I’m reading this as a sexual thing.
And, yay! I’m glad we went with this title!
+1000.
And to the lady at work that brought pulled pork to the lunch potluck: Why would you put orange marmalade in that?? Ruined a perfectly good meal!
Yeah. I’ve gotten a “Yeah, my allergies act up down there, too” letter from a couple other actors. As things go, though, it’s a community theater in a church basement. I doubt we’ve got pull to have the church do anything.
This isn’t really a rant, but I did hear something impressively dumb and couldn’t think of a better place to share it. I was at an Indian restaurant with my husband and children. My kids were eating, downing almost their body weight in veggie goodness and naan.
I hear a woman at the table over say, “Why on earth would people bring children to this place and have them eat this spicy food?! I can’t believe people would make their kids eat this spicy stuff. And there’s no meat in half of it.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say,
A) What the hell do you think Indian children eat in India? Chicken nuggets?
B) The food is restaurant Indian food. I get that you probably don’t understand the difference, but the food is pretty damn bland in comparison to what would normally be cooked in the home.
C) Some people don’t eat meat.
I don’t like people. I’ve had a shitty week thanks to some serious logistics challenges (husband’s car was in the shop) combined with Really Important Work Meetings, a child’s birthday and May Day performance and other assorted ridiculousness. And my husband is still going through some sort of life crisis and I don’t know how to help him without yelling, “If you don’t like what you’re doing, just do something about it, dammit!”
I’m done. Just done with this week. And I know they’re relatively minor problems, but they add up. I had a meltdown day before yesterday when, after I learned that I would have to be late to my meetings to accommodate my husband’s unfortunate lack of car and the unavailability of any rental car place before 8, my husband went into a rant about finances (not ours, but “spotting opportunity”) at 10:30 in the evening when I was starving and had finally gotten a snack ready to eat and just wanted to sleep. These conversations usually last three hours or more and I just couldn’t handle the idea of standing there for three hours, watching my food get cold and any opportunity of a good night’s sleep disappearing. So I did the dumb thing and lost it.
I can get behind this. That person is a dumbass.
And as a vegetarian, the meat part irks me the most.
Seriously, if you don’t like the spicy, mostly vegetarian nature of an Indian restaurant, by all means go…never mind (against the Pit rules)…and go eat at McDonalds or whatever other restaurant you like.
Oh my god. Fucking people, am I right?
My husband and I had to go to his grandparents’ conservative Evangelical church this Sunday. I’ve got a rant and a half stored up about that, but most of it is about how the place is a bastion of close-minded bigoted bland ignorant willful fat-fuck-dom and that’s what they’re really evangelizing. That and meatballs with grape jelly on them at ten o’clock in the morning. GRRRRRRRR.
:eek:
Orange…marmalade…in…
That’d get you strung up in my neck of the woods. You do **not **treat pulled pork that way.
I was supposed to get my root canal finished two weeks ago, but the abscess flared up again, or something, and the tooth is too painful to work on. I don’t want sedation dentistry for this, I just want the tooth to quiet down so I can get it fixed. Grrrr. Also, I want a painkiller that doesn’t interfere with my blood clotting abilities.