To at least about twenty of my pupils: yes, I know you cut your nails since your last violin lesson. But you’re playing out of tune, because your nails are too long. Guess what? They GROW. And because you trimmed them just short enough, seven days has made all the difference. No, I’m not joking when I say I cut mine several times a week, nor when I hand you clippers to cut them with right now. And yes, I’ve seen the “I’m about to cry” look enough times to tough it out. And no, your mother does not agree with you, I’m happy to phone her right now to check. (I’ll admit to having used some of that in real life, including the last sentence.)
You’ve taken on New York’s snow and I thank you for it, since we’ve gotten way below average amounts of snowfall (no accumulated snow so far this season). 
Hope you feel better physically.
MSN and GAIM both set my status to “away” if my computer’s been idle for more than 10 minutes.
Yeah, mine too. But I guess you can switch that off. The iphone friend explained that he logs in via some web-based thing, which doesn’t convey any status except active. When I asked why he doesn’t log off when he, for instance, goes to sleep, he said “I don’t want to. I want to be logged on.”
I can see when he’s on via the phone though (says “mobile”), so I just don’t bother communicating with him when he is.
He asked why this bothered me. “That’s a good question,” I replied (two hours later).
Oh, God, yes. I have a year’s worth of filing to do this week (I’m not kidding. 2007 was beyond crazy and stuff just had to sit in piles.), and as I’m going thru it, I’m tossing out tons of crap. You would think that the fact that I’ve had tons of crap piled up everywhere in my office for a year without a single solitary request from either of my bosses to “get me the Johnson file!” would be a sign that we don’t need to warehouse all this crap. But, no, that would make too much sense.
Huh. How many times can I use the word crap in one paragraph?
Every time I look in the Pit, this thread immediately pops up in my peripheral vision as “Fucking Immigrants!” which sounds like a thread I could enjoy wading into with my flamethrower set to 11. Instead, it’s always this. It’s ok, but the constant “What the f… oh.” every time I come here is naggingly irritating.
So… fuck Kyla for not being a racist asshole.
My fridge froze my gourmet olives. The really really good ones that my sister gave me for Christmas. They’re stuffed with sun-dried tomato, and they’re incredibly good. They’re made even better by the fact that I’m a broke-ass student and could never justify buying something like that for myself. Now I’m waiting for the jar to thaw out, because my fridge decided to freak the hell out. I don’t know what happens to olives when they freeze, but if they turn to mush or something, my fury will be great indeed.
It was $80, you twits. Two days of jury duty. I reported it, because I knew you’d be getting copies of the tax information, anyways - so I figured it would be better to come clean and hope that you’d be a bit more lenient because of that, than trying to hide it.
Instead you’re going to be taking it back out of my pension payment $8 a month. On the one hand, I can’t deny that you’re doing exactly what you said you could do if I started getting any income of my own. On the other hand, I find it so fucking hard to believe that the $80 we’re talking about represents anything significant to the Federal gov’t, or even the VA’s budget. And for me, it was almost a 10% bonus on my monthly income.
For that matter, everyone I spoke with when I filed the paperwork back in September, when I got the check for the jury duty, said they thought it was well within the realm of possibilities that this would be waived, since it was such a small amount, and received for performing a civic duty.
I hate bureaucrats.
I know this is whiney and selfish, but just how much harm would it do the fucking Federal budget to let me keep that $80? Really?
Two seizures this morning. Fuck. So now I’m chilly, shaky, and I have a nasty headache.
Why the hell won’t the weather make up its mind? Tuesday was hot. Yesterday was cold again. Today is cold. Dammit, it was only hot because I was going to wear kimono to class, wasn’t it? You’re trying to tempt me into buying new (spring-weight) kimono. Evil weather.
Also, teacher, if you’re not at class today (for the third session in a row) I’m going to be pissed. We had a project to work on that you were going to show us examples of and never did. It’s due tonight and if I rushed to get it finished for no reason, I’m going to be pissed off.
Sister, why the hell don’t you clean? You don’t work. You just sleep all day. Yeah, you have a headache, but you can’t drag out the vacuum and clean for fifteen minutes every half-hour or so? The place is a giant mess and I work and go to school. But I also end up washing the dishes everytime, changing the litter, doing the trash and vacuuming. You say you’re such a neat freak and that you clean so much better than me, but if you only do it once a month it doesn’t really count!
Self, your room and desk are only a mess because you let everything pile up. Stop it.
The coughing. My dear lord, the coughing. I feel sorry for the people doing all this coughing at work; I know what a persistent, hacking, unproductive cough does to you, but the sound of it all day coming from a bunch of different people is driving me out of my tree. It’s almost like a barking dog - you just think it’s done, and there it goes again. And it’s not rhythmic, so you can’t just get used to it.
Fuck you, insecurity! Most days I can wake up and be enthusiastic about the upcoming day, be eager about learning new things at my job, and talk to my friends and be entertaining and confident and enjoy their company.
That being said, once or twice a week I’ll wake up (or have a few hours in the middle of the day) and, without warning, I’ll immediately start thinking of my past failures. I’ll also interpret every interaction with people (the same ones more or less) as them blowing me off or thinking badly of me. It usually passes after a few hours, and I’ll go back to being my usual, confident self. But still…FUCK! :mad: :mad: :mad:
The new Microsoft Outlook has a yellow banner under the Inbox label that says “Click here to enable Instant Search”. It takes up an entire line on the page. I don’t particularly want instant search. But especially DON’T want a undeleteable button taking up valuable screenspace.
So what the fuck guys? Is this an option or not? If it’s an option, what’s with the fucking intrusive waste-of-real-estate button? And if it’s mandatory, why bother with the button?
Listen, motherfucking bitch manager of the department: I like you well enough but I’m about to throw your dried up ass out of the fucking window.
You’re a manager and I’m a staff assistant. You manage and have a vague idea of how I do what I do. When you decide you will try to do what I do and you ask me a question about procedures and I answer you, DO IT HOW I TELL YOU TO DO IT!
Don’t reply, “But that’s not how I did it 10 years ago.” No, it’s not, but it’s how I did it 10 minutes ago and it’s how I did it already 10 times this morning!
If you’re going to ask my that type of question, LISTEN TO WHAT I TELL YOU, or DON’T FUCKING ASK ME!
And if you tell me it’s time to go to lunch at a time that I’ve been going to lunch for the past 2 years, I will throw you out the fucking window and MAKE SURE YOU LAND ON THAT FUCKING FLAG POLE SO YOU CAN GET THE FUCK YOU SO OBVIOUSLY NEED!!!
I wouldn’t play around with it. You might wind up with an even bigger button that says “Are you SURE you don’t want Instant Search?” or “CLICK HERE to start using Instant Search”
I get an inordinate amount of irritation from people telling me to do things that I was just about to do/always do/know very well are my duties, and I will do them in their own time. I have a bossy, micro-managing, meddling co-worker who thinks she’s my boss; she does this way too frequently. And there’s really no response to this, except saying, “Yup, I was just going to do that.” Ass. (The ass part is under your breath.) Deep, cleansing breaths.
I am so tired of your Q-tip heads obscuring my field of vision. You poor pathetic clueless trend-followers, do you actually think you look cool? Or are you just too friggin’ lazy to wash and comb your hair? Would that simply exhaust you, poor little penis-heads? Would that be so oppressively burdensome? Well, it’s getting pretty damn burdensome to my eyes and my brain to have to process skull after skull after stupid, lumpy skull. And I have yet to see a skull that looks anything but stupid. In the case of dark-skinned guys who shave their heads, at least the skin tone obscures the stupidity. You shaved-headed white guys, you stand as gleaming beacons of stupidity, as shining lights of stupidity upon the hill of fashion mistakes, and I’m really, really, really tired of you.
The other evening I was standing in the train car in the line to exit. Ahead of me were a couple of men with male-pattern baldness. I found myself gazing at the backs of their hair-fringed heads with melting gratitude and tenderness. Those who have the courage and the compassion not to shave, I salute you.
Oh, and women who like men who shave their heads? – may you all go bald.
Thanks, I feel better now.
Why thank you. I have always considered my beard to be a sign of courage and compassion. It is especially compassionate to all those who would otherwise have to look at my raw and bleeding chin and neck, which do not appreciate razor blades and electric shavers.
Seconded. Get this pretty much every day for at least an hour or so. Hate it more than… Well… Just about anything. So… seconded.
Apparently someone crawled down my throat last night and stuck razor blades onto my tonsils 