Oddly enough, I have never had a problem shopping for cars. It’s just this one fucking hardware store. I would even tolerate a little condescension if I were asking how to do something … but telling me how to work a goddamned gas gauge is too much. I have continued to go there for the last eight years because it’s around the corner, whereas my several Home Depot options are all at least four or five miles away and require getting in the car. But nobody at Home Depot treats me like an idiot unless I’m actually being an idiot.*
I once asked someone where the restroom was while standing next to the restroom signs. There is no defense for that.
You’d think being a middle-aged white male who looks sufficiently anglo and sufficiently put-upon would be enough to avoid the sexist and racist comments. But nooooooo, that just means they assume you’re as ignorant as they are.
Last time I got my car worked on, they gotta pull out the owner’s manual for some tires thay’d just sold someone… where (ready to bust a gut laughing? They were)… they had a section that had everything in Spanish! “I guess in case you want a bunch o’ Mexicans puttin’ tahrs on yer car! (insert guffaws here)”
I rolled my eyes and called them racist old assholes, but I’m so naturally hilarious that it just added to the joke, I guess. Damn, I wish they weren’t so good at fixing cars…
She’s only spoiled if you serve it to her in a crystal goblet.
I much prefer orchestra groups to theatre groups. There’s less prima donna-ing with orchestra members (except among the violinists, but no one likes the violinists).
My rant is that it’s the first day of my vacation and I woke up in the middle of the night with Intestinal Distress. I’ve eaten some toast but I still feel weak and shaky. I have to go out and do some much needed shopping today. It’s supposed to start snowing today as well, so there’s some more fun. I wish it would snow tomorrow. I’d love to have some birthday snow rather than birthday bitter, bitter cold which is what we’re getting.
Buy a couple, so you won’t have to wash them up every day.
I’m sorry for your loss, Chef Troy. You try to do everything to keep them safe, but sometimes their stupid instinct kicks in too strong and… yeah. My sister lost her doxie because he refused to use the stairs up to her bed. Jumped and broke his back. It’s difficult.
My rant: I just want to sew today. Don’t want to work. I could sew all day and no one would be the wiser. I would, though. And I can’t do that. Dammit.
That’s awesome. I used to work with a guy whose German Shepherd loved ice cubes. Poor dog would go bury them “for later” and then could never understand why he couldn’t find them again!
Mine mostly get Friskies, too, although occasionally I’ll splurge on Newman’s Own or Science Diet. I’ll start adding a splash of water to it.
May I suggest calling in delivery and/or eating off disposable plates?
When we got our new Xerox machine at work, I had to assist one of the office ladies with some function that required consulting the manual. I accidentally flipped to the French section when I opened it, which prompted my colleague to start muttering about “those people”. Having lived in this area long enough, I know who she was referring to… but I couldn’t resist replying “Who, the French Canadians?”
(For the record, the manual also had a Spanish section… I guess my colleague was only expecting to see English and Spanish.)
My brother continues to be one of the worst fucking human beings I know.
My dad is leaving a will. The will leaves a sum of money to my girls. My fucking shit-brained bastard bro is whining about this to some of his friends. Why? Because dad isn’t leaving an equal sum of money to his kids. Only bro does not have any fucking kids. Bro doesn’t even have a girlfriend as no woman wants anything to do with an arrogant, gullible, deeply nasty, unbelievably lazy, loser employed in a menial job about to be forty and living with his father.
Bro is being left dad’s condo. The condo is fully paid off and worth more than anything being left to my girls. Dad just gave bro his old car because bro trashed his old car. Bro has crashed four fucking cars in twelve years. I am not bitching about this as I sincerely do not want bro showing up in my house and living with me. I am being left personally nothing and I am fine with it. Not a penny. I can’t even get my dad to mail me my late mom’s jewelry collection that she promised to me and my eldest daughter and I am still not complaining to my dad.
Bro is fucking piece of human garbage. I hate him.
WTF, guys? My Christmas present to myself arrived today. Not complaining about the lag time; overseas shipping takes longer. But I ordered this. Okay, I’m not going to complain that he looks smaller than in the photo, or that his fur is lighter in color. Photos can be deceiving. But it’s not an illusion of light or framing that his hat is a tam instead of a busby, with a pompom instead of a plume. And there’s no trim on the sleeves. And no tassel on the pipes. And worst of all, no St. Andrews flag on his paw!
I’ll give the site owners a piece of my mind, but what good will that do. Ach.
During yesterday’s frantic and tragically unsuccessful dash to the vet, I got a pretty deep cat bite on the little finger of my right hand. I’d heard (here, actually) that such bites pretty much always get infected, so I planned to go to the doctor today. Sure enough, in less than 24 hours my little finger and the edge of my palm were severely swollen and painful to the touch. My doctor marked the boundaries of the redness on my hand with a pen (for later comparison purposes) and sent me on my way with a prescription for antibiotics, which I filled immediately. She also told me that I have to keep my hand elevated above my heart as much as possible. (Probably shouldn’t be typing this.) I can tell that the elevated hand thing is going to get old FAST.
Well, dang. See, that is why I wasn’t sure if my cat bite was getting infected, because I’d heard that they go hot really fast. Just like yours did.
Did your doctor tell you to soak it? I’ve been told by other cat bite victims that soaking in warm water and red stuff…not iodine…it starts with a b but is also red and sold over the counter…sorry having a severe brain fart here. Maybe one of the other cat bit survivors can chime in. But, what I was trying to tell you is that the people I know said that soaking the wound seemed to help the pain and swelling.
Anyhow, I’m sorry this is happening to you and I hope all you have to do is take some pills for it to go away. You probably won’t even get cool looking scars out of this
Betadine. It’s an iodine-containing solution. Stings like a motherfucker, but it’s pretty awesome at killing bacteria, viruses, and craploads of other nasties.
I am developing a profound loathing for what my city pretends is a transit system. See below for what I sent to their online contact form:
"This morning, the 56 bus that was allegedly arriving at Valley Hi & Mack at 7:01 failed to show up at all. The 7:31 cannot reasonably be expected to make the light rail connection for the 7:44 train I needed, especially when the 7:31 was more like the 7:35. Thanks to said no-show, I was 15 minutes late for work, for the second time in a month due to issues with the 56. Apparently, RT considers forcing passengers to leave home hours before any remotely reasonable need or risk losing their jobs preferable to offering dependable service and sane amounts of time for connections.
On the way home today, the 56 that was supposed to be at Meadowview LRT at 4:25 showed up closer to 4:35, and was full, with standees, on departure from Meadowview LRT. The driver not only kept packing on more passengers, but couldn’t be bothered to follow safety rules on such topics as passengers clustering at the front door, well forward of the white line. This made efforts to exit the bus very challenging and added to an already considerable service delay.
For “bonus” points, “Customer Advocacy” apparently does not wish to be contacted by passengers who work during business hours, since they are limited on times they’ll bother to be available.
Overall, my disgust with the 56 line and RT’s “customer service” just keeps growing. The ONLY reason you ever see any of my money is that I have no alternative if I wish to be employed."
On a GOOD day, that 7:01 connects nicely to the 7:14 train that puts me at the other end of the line in time to grab an 8:09 bus that gets me to work around 8:15. I start at 9:00. Fortunately, I have a break room I can hang out in. When I get off at 3:00, I wait 25-30 minutes for the bus to get me to the train, which hopefully arrives at the end of the line in time to grab the 4:25 bus that gets me home by 4:50. Please note that I can drive the distance between home and work in 30 minutes or less, depending on route selection and traffic.
Seanette, I think if I had a car, I would be driving in that circumstance. That sounds horrid, and between dumping the transit pass and saving two hours a day, gas may be a wash. One transfer is bad enough, but two that suck due to unreliability doesn’t sound worth it.
We have a car. Key words there being “we” and “a”. One car, two people with schedules that don’t mesh quite well enough for sharing the car on days DH has classes to be a good option. On the plus side, I’ve decided that unless some circumstance changes, I get the car on Fridays, when DH does not have class. Thus, my commute woes are 20% mitigated. I work 9-3, he’s in class 8-1, and the two locations are about 12 miles apart by the most direct route, which would take 20+ minutes, depending on traffic. I could cope with leaving early enough to get DH to class before going to work, but he would have problems with the 2+ hours he’d have to wait to be picked up.
Stupid cat. I thought that the combination of Prozac, keeping your fave litterbox clean, and somewhat less stress would mean you could cut back on the inappropriate peeing. In fact you haven’t peed on the bed with us in it for quite a while now…until the wee hours of this morning. News flash, kitty, I do NOT like waking up covered in your stinky pee! So now I get to spend my evening washing the waterproof mattress cover and all the blankets, and I get to take my comforter to the dry cleaners ONCE AGAIN. Come on, your favorite box was untouched by any of the other cats! Knock it off already!
You’re so lucky we like you. Now to find you and give you your evening dose of Prozac.
