Yeesh I’d be mad. I’ve had a bag of them on my kitchen table a couple weeks now and they’re fine. Also only $5 for six pounds - but I have found a few with seeds, too. At least they’ve been easy to peel.
That wasn’t in the weather forecast. 
I take it is not men.
But one suspects your temperature is still rising.
Won’t you cawwwwwwme
in my kiiiiitchen,
‘cause it’s gowwwwwwwna be
rainin’ innnnside…
[/blind melon chitlin’]
I’m annoyed by the thread title. I dunno. Something about being called a bunch of turds. Even in jest it irks. Clearly I’ve got nothing else to worry about.
Sorry about all the suckitude upthread. Too much to address individually. 
That’s one for the oneiromancy journals!
Right up there with showing up to work naked, and walking into the final exam of the course you never attended lectures for.
Wal*Mart associates don’t work on commission, so they’re not incentivized to look at every person who enters their field of vision as a potential boat payment.
And that doesn’t end when you graduate and become a teacher. I had the same dream, but I walked into a college class for the final saying “I’m sorry, I never knew I was assigned this class. What have you been doing all semester?”
One of the expected advantages of the new job is that I won’t have to be traveling every weekend or every other weekend. So, you know, I expect to be less tired, and be able to do “activities” on the weekend, and control what I eat, and have it be things I’ve cooked, and stuff like that.
Guess what did Mom want me to do every weekend, or if I ever couldn’t, at least every other weekend. To her house, of course, not mine.
SeaDragonTattoo, I didn’t like it either and for the same reason. I hate it when singers call their audience “motherfuckers” and stuff like that it’s-all-in-jest-haha-we’re-all-friends-here-haha, too. No, we’re not friends. You and I have never eaten together, you’ve never helped me move (a sofa /chairs to prepare for a big meal /house), I’ve never helped you with your IKEA puzzles… so don’t.
Taking the baby to see Grandmother in the morning. Decidedly mixed feelings here - I know that this is the last time I will see the old battle ax alive - which is both a relief and a… something. I simultaneously hope that she doesn’t suffer too much, and that she is consigned to the judgmental afterlife she claims to believe in. Regardless of so many awful things she has done and said, though, I have a few good memories. I guess I need to hang on to the nights that she cooked my favorite suppers, and going with her to buy my graduation present (every woman needs a timeless, good quality wool coat. I wore mine for a quarter century, until the moths got it a couple of years ago.) Thanks to Grandmother, I can spot a good diamond or a fake piece of Depression glass at 20 paces. I can appreciate her very real wit, and her skill as a chef and a tailor. And I can admire those things, while pretty much hating everything else about her, right?
I didn’t think this would be so hard…
Facebook, fuck you with a crowbar. HARD.
Thank you for eliminating all my custom filters.
I DON’T WANT TO SAY EVERYTHING TO EVERYBODY, THANK YOU, BUT IT’S THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I CAN TALK TO A LARGE GROUP THAT USED TO BE ELSEWHERE ONLINE.
And a swift kick to my husband because he doesn’t want to listen to me bitch about this because “it’ll set me off”. STOP ACTING LIKE MY MOTHER. Jesus.
OK, I didn’t lose the filters. They’re just not where they’ve usually been. Getting tricky there, FB.
BUT the whole husband-acting-like-my-mother? THIS IS WHY I HAVE PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE ANGER ISSUES. Because god forbid I express any iota of displeasure. Because god forbid I express any kind of negative emotion. Because god forbid I’ve lived with and still live with hypersensitive people.
JFC. Grow a fucking backbone.
Balls. My laptop will no longer charge.
I was planning on getting a new one shortly (basically as soon as I get round to cashing the cheque my parents gave me for Christmas), as my old one hasn’t been able to connect to the WiFi since my former housemate tried to “make it faster”, but still, there’s a bunch of stuff still on it that I need.
This isn’t helped by the fact that the power cable is also kinda broken, so it only connects after I fiddle with it for half an hour trying to get it in juuuust the right position, but now the battery’s gone, as soon as I breathe and the power cable moves a nanometre, the connection breaks and the laptop dies.
I am not buying a new power cable for a dying laptop, so this is going to be tricky.
Oh, and I can’t find find the vouchers my aunt gave me for Christmas either; I was sure I put them in the drawer with the cheque, but apparently not. Spending those was today’s plan…
I hate text conversations which everybody seems to do now. If you’ve got a conversation that’s going to require a little back and forth FUCKING CALL THE PERSON WHO YOU NEED TO TALK TO!!!. A simple 5 min conversation will sort it out and then we can get on with whatever we’re doing without you keeping interrupting it and looking distracted all evening. If I ever get a text message whith a query like “how are you?” I ignore it. If they care how I am or have some need I can help them with, they’d have called. I have no intention of going through a conversation one beepBEEPbeep at a time.
And yes I know 2009 called and told me to get over it already.
Facebook people, we know you love the troops. So get a fucking room, will you? We know you never tire of sucking their collective dick, so just fucking say so and get it over with. Instead we see drivel like this: “It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press… It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.” Bull-fucking-shit. We have freedom of the press because of the first amendment, written by statesmen and not soldiers. And these same hyperpatriots who fucking adore the troops would probably beat the shit out of anyone who dared look at the flag crosswise, let alone burn it. Don’t give me that shit about how the troops allow us to burn the flag, it’s the fucking Constitution that does that in SPITE of the troops who would more likely love to shoot anyone burning the flag.
While we’re at it, Facebook people, how about checking the facts before you click the Share button? That deformed kid that you think typing “amen” will help? Probably been dead for years. One like = 1000 prayers? Where the fuck did you come up with that? Does the Bible have a Book of Face? Congressmen collect a pension of 100% of their pay after one term? In their fucking dreams. And seriously, folks, those photos that say “like and comment ‘OMG’ (or whatever) to see what happens next” never fucking work. It’s impossible to program a post to function that way. How many fucking times are you going to fall for that stupid shit? And lay off the fucking posts featuring Gene Wilder saying “Tell me again how…” or Kermit saying “but it’s none of my business”. That jumped the fucking shark years ago. And the “97% of my friends won’t repost this, but I was brave and did” line- what a crock of shit. It takes no fucking guts to share a post and even fewer brains to share one that’s demonstrably false.
No, people, Mark Zuckerberg is NOT going to cut you into his fortune. Nobody is going to get an operation free if they get so many likes. And what the fuck do you mean by “Let’s get this across the USA” mean. So if a guy and Maine and a guy in Hawaii share it, we’re done? And if a guy in Florida does as well, does that count as two crossings of the country? “How many likes can this hero get?”. One less than you think- see military fellatio discussion above.
Lastly, you might find it hard to believe, but some of your friends and family have political views that are 180 degrees from yours. (Although you might phrase it as 360 degrees apart). It’s fine to disagree, but when you post dishonest shit or outright lies to bolster your opinion, it does nothing but make you look like the moron that you are.
Yeah, Facebook, and that’s NOT Betty White in those photos!!
Facebook just brought back the Neiman Marcus cookie UL. Wow.
*"Mostly talking to each other about how EASY this course is! Sometimes we nap. It’s just like Study Hall in high school, but with college credit.
“Does this course transfer, btw?”*
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
NM should really have that recipe engraved on a gold tablet, and offer it for sale at $250…
Or Hammacher Schlemmer.
It’s not Facebook’s fault if you follow people who post that shit. Y’all know that, right?