I put my coat on the counter for 5 minutes while I put the groceries away, and Mojo peed on it. He was doing better after the three rounds of antibiotics, but he started getting chatty and excessively face-rubby again this past week, making me think his mouth abscesses are still bugging him. Of course my husband hasn’t gotten around to making a new appointment at the vet’s office. I’d make it myself except that it he’s going to be the one bringing him, since the vet’s hours are crappy and I can’t get off work. I asked him to give me a list of times he can do it and I’ll make the damn appointment, but he gets pissy and says he’ll do it. Well, fucking DO it, then.
I hope he gets better quickly! My littlest furball, Horton, had a PU surgery (which takes care of the “strangers around the penis” problem, since he’s now without one) a couple of years ago after a horrible night at the emergency vet, where it took them over an hour to cath him because he’s so small and everything was so scarred inside. He hasn’t had a recurrence yet, thank goodness, because I’m not sure we could afford it!
Slow down, people. In English, the double “m” (“-mm-”) makes the preceding vowel “short” – “u” pronounced “uh”. If the German manufacturers really wanted English speakers (other than snobby know-it-alls) to pronounce it “goomie”, they would have either altered the spelling for exported candy (to “Gumi”), or made the pronunciation part of their ad campaign, including printing something like “Pronounce it Goomy!” right on the package.
But they didn’t, because they don’t mind that English speakers pronounce it “gummy”. As well they should. That’s a perfectly good English adjective to describe the viscosity of the product.
You sure picked the weirdest quote for that rant, JKellyMap. I was talking about “use”, you’re talking about “pronunciation”; I’m reasonably sure they are two different concepts.
ARGH, fucking crane flies EVERYWHERE!!!11! I know they’re harmless, but cripes. Yesterday I was working on various projects outside and took a moment to stop, stand up, look around, and assess progress and future plantings. The grackles had just taken off and everything was very quiet. That’s when I realized I could hear them. Everywhere, this tiny brushing sound of their wings beating stupidly against the plants, the grass, the trees. Fuckin’ A, I swear to you every cubic foot of our yard contains at least one.
We’re paying for our mild, freeze-free winter already. The mosquitoes are going to be unbearable this year. Betcha we’ll have a cricket population explosion, too.
So, at my new job, I can wear shorts. The problem is, I got my last shorts a bunch of weight ago–they’re all 28s, with one pair of 26s, and I’m now wearing 16s. And since it’s going to be 75 tomorrow, and I want to wear shorts, I had to go buy a pair.
Except, oh. Wait. The shorts are all either the size of a postage stamp or are freakin’ capris. I look awful in capris, and worse in postage stamp shorts. Also, the hell is with Target’s sizing? 17? Since when the fuck is that even a fucking clothing size? No matter, though, since they don’t fit.
Finally I found a pair of “city shorts”, which hit a little above the knee and have some cuff and aren’t fitted to my decidedly un-shapely thigh and knee. This is what I was looking for when I was looking for shorts. Fuck capris. Fuck them fuck them fuck them.
Well, that’s that. I helped her pack, and she’ll stay with a friend for the time being. I also gave her a talisman (turquoise; I knew she liked green) and she gave me a nicely worded card and a Kindle giftcert.
Also I got a new client. Started today. Should be every week for a while. And so it goes…
Even sizes are girls or misses/women’s sizes. Odd sizes are juniors sizes. Junior clothing is sized for teens and possibly young 20s females. The clothes are designed for a shorter, slimmer figure, with a smaller and higher bust. So if you’re short, go with juniors or women’s petite (WP) sizes, but if you’re over about 5’4", go with misses or regular women’s sizes.
Chiggers and fleas, too. Don’t forget them chiggers, because they won’t forget YOU. And now I itch, just thinking about chiggers.
I tripped and fell on the sidewalk while walking and playing on my phone yesterday. Yes, I am now that person. And I scraped the hell out of a hand and leg as punishment. What do you say when someone asks about all your bandaids? “I was trying to check my email?” Brilliant.
Every Monday evening out team Coach does a radio broadcast from a local resturant about the previous week’s games, upcoming games, transactions, stuff like that. It’s basically an excuse to eat out and talk hockey.
Several years ago, a colleague and I were on our way to meet a client downtown. As we walked to our meeting, I caught me heel on a broken sidewalk, and crashed down on top of my hand. Fortunately, my co-worker was there to help me take off my rings, and then usher me into the nearest public restroom to clean up - my hand was a bloody mess. After a few minutes, I got the giggles, and my poor colleague thought maybe I had hit my head, too, until I regained my breath and explained the joke: we were using the ladies’ room at the cathedral, and I had this vision of waving my bloody palm at the sisters or the monsignor and asking whether they’d ever seen such a thing. In retrospect, it wasn’t THAT funny, but at the moment? Hysterical!
Today’s mini rant is the same as yesterday, the day before, all last week, etc.: Baby Miss, please let me lay you down for just a few minutes. Please? Without the screaming? I love you, but now and again, I need to feed the rest of the family, or go to the bathroom, or other minor stuff. Really, I’m not going to abandon you! And my arms and shoulders ache sooo much.