I would gladly send it over there if I could, believe me. One major snowstorm and I’m done.
Never mind there’s the possibility we’re going to have another foot over this weekend. Shoot me now.
I really hate umbrellas. Explanation: I’m the guy on a safari who spots animals and other critters even before the guide does. I’m the guy who, when on a hike, spots wildlife moving when nobody else does (saved us from running into a bear once). I’m the guy who always catches the glass that is heading for the floor or keeps the lamp from tipping over. In other words, much like a cat, I automatically track movement, however slight. I’ve learned to live with it.
Umbrellas have all these points on them, and when one moves toward my face, I flinch. I can’t help it. In a crowd of people with brollies, I look like some sort of lunatic, with my head jerking back and forth. My wife insists on using one of the damn things instead of just pulling her hood up and I’m constantly dodging the goddamn thing. She always insists “I’m NOT going to poke you in the eye!” Yeah, tell my brain that.
There’s only one solution, use one yourself, as a defensive tactic.
Another Amazon package coming. Would have been nice to receive it today. Yes, estimated delivery says Saturday, but tracking the package, it left Pennsylvania Wednesday, went to Kentucky Thursday, and went to Wisconsin today. Directly past Chicago. Like it would have been so much trouble to deliver it on the way a day early.
Me too.:mad: What the fuck is wrong with just a nice raincoat and hat?
My rant is about the otherwise friendly checkout person at the pharmacy.
“The MEDICINE 1 and MEDICINE 2 are eligible for automatic refill – did you want to sign up for it?”
Now, people were following the sign and staying a respectful distance from the checkout for my privacy, but everyone including the guy out the door, across the street in his car now knows what my ailments are.
I wished people were like computers; I could put her on mute, and also click NO and check the box for “do not ask again” – it’s not like I haven’t been on this meds for years and umpteen people have asked if I want automatic refill.
Hats mess up my hair. I become instantly sweaty and greasy under a hat, so it’s either part of my outfit for the whole day or I don’t wear one. I also wear glasses. Hats don’t keep rain off my glasses and I hate getting pelted in the face for the blocks I walk outside. So even if I have a hat on for the day, I’m still using an umbrella.
::twitch::
::makes a feint toward Chefguy with an umbrella point::
It’s not touching you!!
::runs away::
Thanks 
I haven’t even started with the men.
There is the recently discharged Marine, over six feet tall, skin so black that it glows blue. He’s working as a page at the library while he uses his GI Bill to go to college. He doesn’t use a hand truck to move 100 pound bins of books, instead he uses his rippling muscles to lift them to his shoulder. He wears well fitting jeans that show off his muscular butt and shirts with the sleeves rolled up that display his impressive biceps.
I think he’s going to be the love interest because while the Herr Doktor is throwing a fit at the librarian’s desk, his limpid brown eyes meet the exotic Spanish beauty’s flashing eyes and something clicked.
Herr Doktor is tall and Teutonic, with an sharp face and flashing blue eyes with wrinkles from the years of working in the sun. He’s a demanding sort who doesn’t understand that he lives with mortals.
The wild card is a slightly built student at the Miskatonic University. He is pale with brown hair and large horn-rimmed glasses.
Nava, you are falling down on the job here…I need names. I’m terrible with names. GIVE ME NAMES!!!
Can we make the Marine have thighs like tree trunks, please? And can we borrow a line from one of my coworkers referring to such a man, namely “I’m not sure that’s a quadriceps - I must check! In the interest of science!”
I think we could have three women:
the Hispanic beauty,
her friend the American librarian,
their common sister in law, the fainting blonde. This one faints a lot, asks “what happened?” a lot, and faints again before anybody has had time to explain.
No, make that four:
we also have the bitchy Bostonian brunette who all the men (including the married ones) are crazy for, and who dies in Chapter Two. Violently. The death itself is not described, but the room will need a few coats of maroon paint. How good are you at gorey descriptions?
Names, let’s see, let’s see…
Ana-it’s-only-got-one-N Irurre, a nursing student who knew she and
Irene Kozlowski would be friends because Irene can actually pronounce Irurre, and can we make her look like Spice Weasel?
Helisabetta (“why would I spell my name normally?”) Irurre, who can’t pronounce Irurre, neé Kozlowski,
and Gabrielle Don’t-Call-Me-Gaby Shaw-Renaud (the gutted one).
Helisabetta is married to James (born Jaime) Irurre, and the sister of Henry Kozlowski. Which yes, means Irene is married. Her husband is the Teutonic Henry, who’s friends with give me a minute the improbably-named Per Janssen (who happens to be from Minesotta, yes there are African-Americans there and some are even African-Danish-American). James isn’t Teutonic at all, but he shares with his brother in law the difficulties comprehending that there is a world outside their jobs.
Henry is an engineering professor, and the odd cat in being the ancient age of thirty. The rest are in a vague mid-to-late-twenties (ladies’ ages are never given explicitly, of course). James teaches the kind of linguistics in which arameic is viewed as a parvenu.
Students:
Joshua Brown (hey, there has to be at least one Brown or Smith in any story, I’m sure names like those are equivalent to a red shirt),
Jonathan and Charles Renaud, who are twins but don’t look alike and are up to here of everybody saying “but you don’t look alike!”; Jonathan is Henry’s assistant (general gopher and maker of stenocopies), Charles works with James (maker of stenocopies and general gopher),
Donald Labaziewickz called DL,
Simo Hakon, who spends a lot of time arguing the relative superiority of Roman vs Egyptian engineering with his friend Jurgen J. Jurgens (the meaning of the middle J is never revealed).
I sure seem to like the letter J a lot, at least when it comes to names.
Any other students can be named by the method of going to Linkedin or facebook (or an actual phonebook if one is available) and matching someone’s firstname with somebody else’s last.
Y’all can join too, hey? It’s a come one, come all gorefest!
For the Marine, how about “Grignr”?
KIDDING! 
See the smilie?
Please don’t hurt me.
What a crappy day I have had. Not single thing I did today went smoothly, everything had some annoying time-consuming interference that I had to struggle to work out and then fix. If I’m found dead in the morning, that’ll just be a topper of a shitty 24hrs.
On a positive note, my recent purchase of a new wifi receiver has improved my internet by quite a margin.
I have two requests:
- let’s have a Stupid Homicides Detective and a Nice Newbie Cop (along with assorted other police people)
- let’s move this to email before we get kicked from the thread
My pharmacy (Giant Eagle) has an app. I request refills via the app and get a text message when it’s ready to pick up.
No! No! Nava and flatlined, please start your own thread so we can read along. This is a lot of fun. I want to hear more about that ex-Marine.
DrDeth was actually replying to Rick Kitchen in reference to the ‘It’s all Obamacare’s fault’ lady. In that situation I like to think I would have said what he was thinking.
Thanks for the well wishes. My little migraine turned into a five day hospital stay. Yikes! The neurologist thinks I’ve developed a “complex seizure disorder without convulsions” and he seems rather baffled by it. Nice to know, eh? Oh, well, I seem fine right now…
Heh.
Mon dieu! Can you call it petit mal? OK, so it’s not exactly the same, but at least that way it sounds like it comes with canapes…
ETA: once upon a time, people got all these illnesses which ok, may not have been very scientific, but people knew what they were talking about. Then as we got more medics and better means and communication, many of those things changed names. People didn’t have sugar any more, now they had diabetes. And now sometimes it seems as if, with more specific diagnostic protocols, things which used to have a name now are more and more likely to be “indetermined”, or “syndromes”, or something like that. I’m not sure if we’re going forward or sideways.
The leeks I was going to use for fritters disappeared somewhere between the market and my house yesterday and I only just noticed. I could make risotto but I only have chicken stock and darling daughter no 1 doesn’t eat meat. I could make mac and cheese but darling daughter no 2 can’t eat dairy. I just bought groceries but all the meat/fish is in the freezer. I have a cold, I don’t want to cook and I don’t want to eat pizza.
wah! someone cook dinner for me!
I would order Chinese. Pizza can’t be your only delivery option?