Self: Do not hold open bottle of Elmer’s glue over head in order to see why it won’t flow.
I feel your pain - I learned the hard way once to make sure the bottle of white-out is closed before shaking it at work. White-out doesn’t really come out of clothes, did you know that?
Thanks for the tip. There was a bottle of white-out in the drawer too, but fortunately it was still all liquid.
Some days it’s hard being dumb.
It’s 7:54 PM CST. We stand on the edge of a new era of human knowledge. In this era, we don’t really know for sure what happens when you put an airplane on a conveyor belt. In the next era, which begins when tonight’s episode of Mythbusters ends, we will know. I can’t possibly express how excited I am about this.
Naturally, my DVR has chosen this moment to die.
Door-Slamming-Roommate:
If our university, which has only cancelled classes three times over the last 15 years (including today), shuts down, the roads are not fit to be driven on at any point during that day, even at night. Thus, the fact that you went out and got yourself into an accident wherein you damaged your car, another person’s car, and another person does not elicit much sympathy from me. (For you. The other person, I have sympathy for. Kinda. Mostly cause they got hurt.)
I’d also like to mention that while you may or may not have been talking on the phone during this whole deal, you are not often without it. Including just a little while ago, when you went to the bathroom while talking on your phone. The entire time. This is disgusting beyond words.
Hey, you miserable, whiny, bitching, angry little martyr of a man–would you PLEASE just STFU? I’m getting so fucking tired of you getting “hurt” by such incredibly egregious insults as not hearing your irrelevant comment the first time you said it (twenty feet away, in a low monotone, while I’m sitting here with a loudass laptop fan, the heater fan and the TV all within six feet of my mucus clogged ear canals) and responding to that terrible damage by throwing a fucking temper tantrum that’s the grown man equivalent of a two year old who’s been told he can’t have the fucking lollipop he wants. Take a nap, take a stress tab, take a fucking .45 slug to the goddamned temple–whatever it takes to make you shut up so I don’t have to be treated to these little bitchfests fifty times a day.
Oh, and while we’re at it–sometimes my attention wanders away from your infinitely RIVETING ten minute account of the intrepid quest for just the right video driver for the TV capture card that had to be plugged into this input not that output and intermittently has signal degradation issues that might be hardware but could be drivers but you couldn’t find X64 drivers so you had to modify Vista drivers but then thelsohtirana;okdnhv;o r;giwiq tiherioghieorjgrgn FUCK!! Do you not understand how incredibly irrelevant and boring this is to anyone who IS NOT YOU? I do my best but it’s fucking BORING and I’m only human and yes, I have a Mythbusters episode going on that I actually AM interested in, and if that fails I have the Dope to scan–which I’m actually interested in, and if that fails me I can always go take a piss, which ALSO interests me, or I could just talk to the dog because at least he’s cute and has funny bat ears and doesn’t get all crotchy if everyone in the world doesn’t worship at his fucking feet and hang on every whine out of his mouth. GET OVER YOURSELF, YOU SHITHEAD! No, I do not feel guilty, I am not obligated to listen to you, I can be persuaded to feign interest but if you try to yell at me and turn into a fucking whiny bitch I absolutely will NOT give you ANY positive reinforcement of your shitty behavior.
Just grow up. Now. Behavior like this is unacceptable in anyone over the age of four–when you’re over forty it’s just fucking embarrassing.
Dear YouTube submitters,
Slideshows are NOT VIDEOS.
That is all.
Holy fuck it’s fucking cold out. (I won’t say how cold, because although it’s much colder than anyone who has never been in freezing weather can possibly contemplate, it’s still quite balmy relative to some parts of Canada and I don’t want to make featherlou feel any colder than she is already.)
So cold that my apartment, which (with four hot water radiators in under 1000 square feet; I only ever leave one turned on, and always leave a window open) is always sweltering, was actually at a reasonable temperature this morning.
I got on the bus and saw a teenager wearing a skirt and knee socks (and otherwise bare legs) and a T-shirt and hoodie, not even one of the thick fuzzy ones but the kind I would wear as a layer under my thick fuzzy one (under my winter coat) on a day like today, and all I could think was “Oh my, dearie, aren’t you cold?”
Yesterday was even colder, and there’s a cold weather alert today, and a winter storm warning tomorrow.
So screw you, winter, first for making me feel like an old lady when I see teenagers on the bus, but mostly for making me take the bus because it’s too fucking cold for me to ride my bike to work. I’m pretty tough, but a wind chill like that is too much even for me. Brr.
Heh - I’m guessing you’re either in Vancouver or Toronto. We laugh at your complaints of cold weather. Hah! 
Kid who sits next to me,
I know that 8am classes are really early, but you apparently have time to gargle cat piss before you show up so maybe you can brush your teeth too. I don’t think it’s fair that I have to breath through a wet rag so I don’t succumb to the stench emanating from your face-hole.
Dear sweet little old ladies:
I know you don’t ambulate that efficiently anymore. I don’t mind your walking sloowly down the corridor, even if your group occupies most of it and I have to squeeze by sideways in order to get where I’m going before the sun sets. When this happens it is not necessary for you to be resentful. I hear you say as I go by, “Well, bless his heart”. I know full well that this is little-old-lady-ese for “Fuck you.”
Bless your heart, little old ladies. 
Yep, Toronto.
Actually, that’s worth a mini-rant in itself: Fuck you, Toronto, for being so incredibly fucking cold that my face freezes off, but still not nearly cold enough for me to feel justified in complaining about it, given the state of the rest of my fucking freezing cold country.
Poor PEI. Are their lights back on yet?
Oh, yeah, PEI - that sucked. Tough call - deep freeze or winter weather with no power. I think I’d still take deep freeze.
Okay, people who use the same photocopier as I do, there are probably at a rough estimate about 10 of you. The photocopier takes about 6 reams of paper at a time, and at a generous estimate, we’re using two fills a day - that works out to each of us filling it once a day. I have filled it twice this week already. I am refusing to fill it one more time on the grounds that I don’t see anyone working here who has painted on arms. Do you think magic paper fairies come and fill the copier when no one’s looking? Get a friggin’ clue - if you USE the machine, FILL the goddamn machine.
I think these are the same people who leave the messes in communal kitchens - just blithely going through life without a thought in their heads. If the photocopier is empty, just go down to the next one.
ETA: When you have a bunch of print jobs to send to the printer that are 50 pages each, how about sending them one at a time instead of all as one job so the rest of us can get our one and two page jobs out sometime today? Kthxby.
A very mini-rant here. A mini-mini rant if you will:
The other day someone in the building across the alley from me got a satellite dish. They apparently installed it while I was out because I never saw any activity over there. All I know is yesterday I sat down to my computer and happened to glance out in my yard and caught something out of the corner of my eye. I look and it’s the dish, perched on the edge of the building like it is contemplating ending its life.
There’s no other dishes or other protuberances up there. The flat artificial horizon I’ve long been accustomed to is now marred by the dish, which seems bigger than what I usually see around here. It’s no big deal really but it’s right on the edge of my vision whenever I look out my window while I’m at my computer. I look out my window a lot. I know I’ll eventually get used to it but for now the dish is distracting.
Such is life, I suppose.
I guess this is a mini-mini-mini rant.
Hey fucko, when you show up at my door at almost 9:00 at night when I have no porch lights on and it’s been dark for damn near three hours, I don’t buy that shit about selling stuff. I know you’re casing the neighborhood, and when you heard my dogs go nuts, you tried to hightail it down the driveway to check out another house until I turned on the porch light and wanted to know what the fuck you wanted.
The proper response from halfway down the driveway when a lady answers the door is not, “Hey, put away the shotgun! I’m the good guy! Call off the dogs!” I didn’t have a shotgun trained on you, and when you don’t belong here, there’s no fucking way I’m calling off the dogs.
I saw that you didn’t go to my next door neighbor’s house when he was already outside in his open garage, because he LOOKS like a guy who doesn’t take any shit. This is how I know you’re not selling stuff. You are looking for an easy mark. I called the cops. I hope they find you. Of course, you were smart enough to have that big white van come pluck you out of the neighborhood before they showed up. Do not come back here. My house is not an easy mark, and I will let my dogs eat your face.
I could have sworn that this was Christie Brinkley’s grounds for divorce from Billy Joel…
I’m not sure if I’m mad about this or just puzzled - I’ve been reading Solzhenitsyn’s “Gulag Archipelago” at work during breaks, and I was leaving it on the reading shelf in the lunchroom so I didn’t have to cart it back and forth (and I erroneously assumed that it would be undesirable enough to be left alone). Someone has taken it - my yellowed, old, bargain bin copy of a book about the Russian Communist revolution. If they mistook it for a book that was donated to the lunchroom library and took it to read - good, I guess? I’m sort of chuckling to myself that my book on Communist Russia got censored from the lunch room.
I’ll be getting another copy and keeping it at my desk. I was just getting to the good part!
To the dog,
The reason you are in a small cage is that I found you in the litterbox, treating it like a buffet. This is after I hid the litterbox in a cabinet and behind some boxes that you shouldn’t be able to get past. I know you’re hungry. But you’re also fat. Your daddy said we’re only supposed to feed you a little bit of Beneful once a day, vet’s orders. Your daddy comes to get you in March. Pull that stunt again, and you can stay in that small cage for the next month.
A weak pitting of Calvin’s World Famous South Philly Cheesesteaks: I was as happy as anyone to see your return to San Jose after a 20-year absence. But, despite the hours you’ve posted on your shop window AND the 'net, your hole-in-the-wall on The Alameda has been closed every single time I’ve stopped by.
I can’t give you my business if the damn shop isn’t open! And I was* sooooo* looking forward to a pepper cheesesteak and onion rings for dinner tonight! :mad:
Mmmmm…doggie almond roca.