Okay. I’ll kick it off.
On Wednesday, a procedure at the Ophthalmologist.
The gunk he was to remove did not have the consistency of mucus. It had set like cement. So, instead of being curetted out, it was cut out.
Now to await the biopsy report…
My mini-rant - that’s a really boring mini-rant title. 
Wait…opthamologist? This was in your eye?
Owie owie owie owie.
I also have an opthamologist rant. In this case, it’s mostly because I’m annoyed that the pediatric opthamologist we took my daughter to for her very occasional wandering eye (happens only about 2-3 times per week) insisted that surgery on both eyes was her only option and that patching and glasses were BS.
Yeah, I get that surgery is sometimes necessary, but could you PLEASE try a non-invasive procedure before going straight to the most painful, scary option? She’s three years old, for cripes sake. Of course, we have concerns when you suggest cutting into the muscles around our daughter’s eyes. And when you state that two or three surgeries will probably be necessary, don’t be an asshole when we say we’d like to consider something else. (Yes, we’re getting a second opinion in a couple of weeks.)
My second rant is very minor. I know that swearing at my work computer when I’m trying to log on from home probably won’t help. But, goddamn it, why the fuck do these fucking things never fucking work when you fucking need them to? Fuckity fuck. Now I have to go into the office after my doctor’s appointment and waste time commuting. Dammit. I hate that.
Yeah. Well at the start I asked if I would need a script for medication for pain relief. He said it wasn’t normally needed.
After all the extra cutting he still didn’t give one. It hurts like shit.
And Cat Whisperer- yeah, I am boring tonight but my eye hurts. Does that cut it?
It doesn’t? You mean all those screaming obscenities that I used to express (I’m retired now) didn’t do anything? :smack::mad::eek: It always seemed to help a little bit.
Actually, muttering obscenities is what helps me find my keys.
I’m having a fucking irritating morning.
My fucking doctor who has seen me twice in the past three fucking months suddenly won’t refill the fucking prescription we’ve been fucking talking about until I have a fucking “med check”. GODDAMN YOU BITCH, my time is precious.
I have a fucking call with my fucking high-maintenance financial institution this morning, eating up more of my precious todder-free time. I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO TALK TO YOU, I want you to put my money into something that will fucking grow. IS IT THAT FUCKING HARD? Isn’t that what you people fucking do?
I listed a bunch of clothes on ebay. Stuff sold. So I had to pack it and soon I have to take it to the post office. My fucking evil post office, ruled by a small-town tyrant who rejects more than half the packages I try to mail. Once she rejected a package for being a tenth of an ounce over limit. Once she rejected a FLAT RATE BOX for being TOO FUCKING HEAVY, what the fucking fuck you goddamn bitch shut the fuck up you’re fucking incompetent IT’S A FLAT RATE BOX. She made my cry by rejecting a pile of packages after letting me take two trips to bring them in, in an icy February, when I was eight months pregnant.
I fucking hate fucking everything and fucking want a vacation.
Oh, and not pregnant again. On to cycle 11.
Oh go fuck yourself one of my employers. Eleven bucks an hour is a disgusting wage to offer college graduates. You cheap scum. If you can pay CEO Incompetent Dipshit a million bucks a year to make bad decisions, you can most certainly manage to pay the people who actually do the work a decent wage.
And fuck off Maine Coon while I’m at it. She’s mewing piteously right now because she’s in the kitchen and too fucking lazy to jump the baby gate.
Dear Boss.
You’re a dumb-asss. It’s obvious we are nothing but a rung in the corporate ladder for you. You have no interest in figuring out why we do things the way we do. But you’re sure as hell going to tell us how to do it aren’t ya. You have no solutions for anything, you have to come to us to fix issues you listen to what we say and reject or accept at your wim. Here’s a hint figure out what we do and come up with your own fuckn solutions, that’s your job. I’m done.
Stop pulling me off projects to start another, at this rate I’ll get nothing done, and don’t tell me it’s the nature of our work. Unless the nature of our work is leaving clients in limbo indefinitely depending on your mood when you come in on Monday. Bull shit. Let me finish a fucking project and stop micro-managing every damn thing I do over silly stupid bullshit. Let me do my job. Just because your a boss doesn’t mean you’re immune to civil and constructive criticism either. If you can dish it out, you should be able to take it without raising your voice in anger, freak out all you want I don’t care anymore. If your goal is to confuse, exasperate and demorailize us.
Congratulations, goal achieved.
Re: Expecting Chobani and getting Yoplait.
Here’s a novel idea. Instead of making a shitty product and using copycat packaging why don’t you just go back to living with your mother. She misses the sex anyway and makes a tasty grilled cheese.
And hey, grocery store manager. Thanks for helping them out by substituting the “look alike” shit into the same shelf space that the decent product was last week.
You on the other hand shouldn’t go back to mom’s. She said the sex wasn’t all that great.
And Bubbadog, how’s about opening your freakin eyes and paying attention to what you take off the shelf.
I’m charmed that someone with the username Bubbadog eats yogurt at all, never mind fusses over the brand <3
Hey asshole! Yeah you smoking in the stairwell. I know it’s cold outside, but that’s your problem and I don’t fucking care! It stinks up my office.
Fuck people who post about nothing but their children on Facebook. I DON’T GIVE A SHIT AND THIS IS A PLACE FOR THE GROWNUPS TO HANG OUT. It’s like the mom who brings her kids to the wedding anyway, and lets them run around the dance floor while expecting everyone to think they’re so cute. I don’t care if your kids are sick, or what their fort looks like or see pictures of them at Fluffy Mom Play Dates or whatever. QUIT FUCKING POSTING THEM*
I love my kids. I don’t require them to be around me 24 hours a day - I have a life and a job and all kinds of roles other than being a parent. I wonder what’s going to happen to all these people when their kids grow up, and they have nothing left in their lives…it’s gonna suck, but I can’t how it will suck.
- Yes - I am in the process of identifying these people on my friends list and cutting them back to important notifications only or whatever it is. I still loathe them
When I joined I was about to take the name AnnoyingYogurtEatingGuy but just then my dog, Bubba, walked into the room.
Bubba, now that’s a proper dog name.
All I got is: Fuck you Friday! Why the fuckity fuck isn’t it Saturday? And why aren’t I semi-snoozing on the couch watching TV?
Then they’ll get a pet and post pictures and crap about it.
I have so much respect for single moms. I know that I couldn’t do it, because I’ve been trying this week, and it sucks. Usually my husband takes our daughter to the school bus while I stay home with our son in the morning, and then I can shower and take him to daycare, but since I’m on my own, I have to have both kids ready to walk out the door at 7:15 AM. I have successfully done that for five days straight now, but I am a fucking zombie and haven’t gotten much (any) work done.
And then this morning while I was rushing around getting everyone ready to go, I stubbed my toe on the couch. I fell to the ground with stars in my eyes, it was so bad. But I soldiered on and got my daughter on to the bus, and limped into daycare to drop off my son. Then I went to the ER, where they determined that it was broken, buddy taped it to the next toe, and sent me out the door. I went to work to pick up some papers, but I can’t actually work on them right now; I’m in too much pain. I finally just got my Narco and took one, so I hope I will feel better soon. I need to head out at 5:00 to pick up the kids; hopefully it will have worn off so I’m safe to drive at that point.
It’s definitely pizza night tonight, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with them tomorrow all day.
I haven’t been sleeping very well. I don’t know if it’s because I’m worried, or because my CPAP isn’t working the way it should, or something I’m eating, or something totally unrelated.
I would like a decent night’s sleep without any odd, vivid, disturbing dreams. I would like to NOT wake up feeling like I’m suffocating because, after 6 months on the CPAP, all of a sudden I’m freaking out in the middle of the night. I would like to have my husband be on a normal sleep cycle and sleep at the same time I am occasionally. I would like my 19 year old daughter to get a clue (or several of them). I would like to get rid of this funky bitter/sweet taste in my mouth that I thought would go away after I had dental work a week ago. I would like to not have to test a software release tomorrow night starting at midnight.
Whine, whine, whine, I know, but I’ve got to vent somewhere.
Yup. Haven’t gone on facebook for a LONG time. I hear any more about “furbabies” I am going to throw up.