Self - Get your shit together and pay bills on time! We make enough to be able to pay our bills every month. Why, oh why the fuck did we get the phone turned off yesterday? Oh, that’s right, because there were 3 months of phone bills sitting in that shit pile you call your desk! You know what you have to do, now get off your ass and do it. Was that 45 minutes a day you sit on your ass and watch tv worth your husband being so pissed he’s not talking to you (at least for a couple days)?!
Get your bills together, make a budget, set up auto pay and stop fucking up!
Okay people, I know English is a complicated and inconsistent language, but it’s not all that hard.
The past tense of the verb “to lead” is “led.” Not “lead.” Yes, “lead,” as in pencils, sounds exactly the same, but it’s not the how you spell “led.”
And yes, the past tense of “to read” is “read,” pronounced “red.” Which might seem to establish a precedent. But it doesn’t.
I’ve seen this mistake in two major national magazines – The Week and Wired – in the past two weeks. I don’t blame the writers, after all they’re cattle. But I’m sensing some editors relying a little too much on spellcheck and not the context and their own Og-given editing skills.
And while we’re talking about spellcheck, why the heck does the built-in spellcheck in Firefox think “okay” isn’t a word?
(Yeah, I know these are pretty lame, even for a minirant.)
Sorry. It was my coping mechanism to get me out of the nail-biting habit, 'cos once you start nibbling a nail, you never get it straightened out until you’re down to the quick. By having clippers at my desk for damage control, I kicked the habit for three years solid. Then I got shamed into not doing it in the office, and since then I’ve been a slave to nail-biting once again.
Dear Makers of RC Helicopters and Instruction Manual Writers,
Please include THE CORRECT FUCKING MANUAL showing THE CORRECT FUCKING CONTROLS when shipping your ONE PRODUCT BUT MANY FLYING CONFIGUFUCKINGRATIONS product. I now have one gashed finger, a totalled helicopter and a traumatized cat.
I hope it was your fingernails you were nibbling. A couple of years ago we had a person with the same habit, but with a major difference: it was her toenails she was a-clipping. She used to fart loudly, too.
Local drivers, you do not need to slam on the brakes every time a train track crosses your path. You can sail over them*. If you can’t, that means your suspension is bad and you have bigger problems than the crumbling rail infrastructure.
Come out to where I grew up. I’ll show you some tracks you have to hit the brakes for. And you’ll learn how to be careful around trains. Just because the ones going through town have to go 20 mph (going to the pharmaceutical companies) doesn’t mean all trains are that slow.
*Exception made for the track I cross on the way to work, but even then you can go 25 mph over it. Going 25 does not involve slamming on the brakes, it involves taking your foot off the damn gas pedal.
Well, an email letter and the mysterious “health fee” is gone, but I still ahve a bill for the insurance because apparently I can only buy it for a full year…and they make me buy it in the fall, so…huh? What if I only had the one semester left, I would still have to pay for two? Yeah, that’s fair.
At least I still have health insurance for a little while, though…
(does some math…$121 a month…that’s seems a little high for just one person, though, but I guess it does include dental and vision.)
You see those signs with the deer on them? Those are caution signs. You see how everything is really shiny? That’s because it’s fucking raining. Crawling up my tailpipe is not going to make me go faster. I want to go home too, but I’d actually like to make it without an accident. So back the fuck off.
Look bozo, you’re driving for a locally owned, and operated company. That usually means that you’re going to be running over the same roads, the same routes, and using the same equipment. As such I do not like being behind a truck when it plays bumper truck with the bottom of a railroad bridge. Y’all got away with it this time, no roof on the road, just ice and dust scraped off (and probably paint, too) with what appears to have been no real foul.
But if your truck is just the height that the bridge is rated for, you might want to consider an alternate route! And if you didn’t think about the height of your truck y’all are an simon-pure idiot.
I think today may by “Asshole Driver” day. Driving home just now I encountered:
a driver at a two-way stop who just decides he had to go right after the driver in front of him when if was my turn. That’s okay. You win. What I don’t know, but you win.
a driver who, as I veer a little to the left entering my block to avoid a rough patch I know is there right past the light that changing, decides to pass me on the right, so he can make the light. That’s okay. You win. What I don’t know, but you win.
a driver who is midway through making a right turn (but just sitting there) then decides to go straight just as I go around him (no signal for either maneuver); once pointed straight, he then decides to meander along, but when I continue my passing attempt, honks the horn loudly at me. That’s okay. You win. What I don’t know, but you win. Actually, no you didn’t. I kept going and left you to figure out where you were eventually going.
I pit the fact that my life sucks and people give a shit enough to ask and make me answer, but that they can’t do anything about it anyway, so I become a broken record of, “No, things are still very grim.”
My company is failing because the general contractors can’t be assed to pay us for the work we’ve done. Not because they don’t like the work, au contraire, they love the work, but they just don’t want to part with any money. Sure, we could sue them, but the company will be long dead by the time we manage to collect. So it’s a waiting game. Meanwhile, our very existence as contributing members of society hangs in the balance, and I have actually been looking at where it is we would go if we became homeless. Fucking HOMELESS!
BTW, now that I’m finished being all self absorbed for my rant, I give a shit. Wanna share? My emaill is in my profile, Ms. Pumpkin. I’m not off somewhere being happy. I’m here being miserable and ready to lend an ear to you.
Are you me?
I’m trying to pay my car insurance, which has a new policy number because I forgot to pay it on time last month and they had to start me over with a new policy number. I’ve been waiting for the damn site to load for several minutes now and my attention will probably wander or it will time out and I’ll never get it paid. Right now I can’t click the dang button next to my payment amount, I want to pay! Let me pay dammit!
Oh I hate that. There is one road that I sometimes take to work if I have to go in early as I can’t see well on the freeway in the dark. Even with the street lights it is hard to see, there are deer warnings everywhere and I myself have almost hit several on that road and it seems every fucking time I take it there is some asswipe tailgating me with there bright lights that even blind me further.
I agree, back the FUCK OFF!
Yesterday I as I got off the freeway and was waiting for the light the car in front of me had this on the rear window.
“If you can read this you are already on my on my ass so while there you can kiss it”
So here I am , trying to get through the Peace Corps medical clearance process. Had my last filling done yesterday, woo hoo! Wisdom teeth can be handled later so far my purposes I’m done! What’s this? An email from the Student Health Center?
Fuck off, Cowell Health. And fuck you.
When the gyno found the lump on my breast and wasn’t worried, I wasn’t worried. But the doc that gave my physical was very concerned and wrote the “condition” on my paperwork. Thanks a bunch! (not). Then I had to go to the rad center to get it ultrasounded. Ok, that’s not horrible, it’ll come up negative or as something benign and I’ll move on. Ultrasound found NOTHING. The tech kept asking if she had the right spot (she did) because she couldn’t find anything.
See, now what this exercise would tell ME (IANAD, duh) is that I’M 21 FUCKING YEARS OLD AND I DON’T HAVE BREAST CANCER!! But apparently all you heard is that you should run MORE expensive and inconvenient tests on something that is incredibly unlikely to even exist (and that the ultrasound seems to have ruled out). Now I have to call my insurance company (AGAIN!) and go all the way to Sac with your shitty med center that has zero parking to find out that I’m FINE. Did I mention I’m already behind on my school work, field day preparations, and life in general? I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!!!
Caller: No amount of “I want to speak to a real person!” is going to get a real person to answer. Sorry, recorded phone trees are a way of life now, and I don’t have any magical ability to make the clinic know that it’s you who are calling, you who would so prefer to have a person answer. And I’m sure it is an emergency. Well, rest assured, the recorded phone line will suggest that you call 911 if it is a medical emergency. Otherwise you are going to have to wait a few minutes. Sorry.