You, sir, are a bonafide optimist. I salute you. 
You’ve got four-wheel-drive. You’ll be fine.
Hey, Comcast, in what universe is Military History a sport?. No, I am not adding your Sports Entertainment Package at another ten bucks a month to watch one channel that has noting to do with the rest of the package!
Or, Madame in Nava’s case.
Sorry, it was the culottes that threw me.
Oh, thank goodness. I was first adjusting to Nava being in Belgium when all along I thought she was in Spain. Then when I read she was a he, I was mentally shrieking, “What?? What??” like that kid’s mom on the phone in A Christmas Story.
I can handle the Belgium thing. Deep breaths.
Fuck cancer.
Back in August one of my co-workers, age 40 like me, was diagnosed with brain cancer. And earlier in May a good friend at work’s 42-year-old stepdaughter got diagnosed cancer again, for the 4th time, this time bladder and lung. They’re doing okay…ish.
Over the weekend another co-worker’s nine-year-old son was diagnosed with brain cancer too.
Seriously, fuck cancer. I’ve already watched way too many people in my own family die of it. I don’t want to see anyone else die of it too.
I think I’m just sleep deprived, really… yawn
And yes Helena, I’m a she as of last check
One of my closest friends really needs a lot of my help right now. But she cannot. shut. up. most of the time, and being around her absolutely exhausts me. She’s one of those people who can’t stand silence, and is uncomfortable just sitting quietly. I’m a textbook introvert, and even a quiet 1-on-1 with a dear friend gets tiring when it’s a nonstop stream of noise. Sensory overload.
She’s gotten as far as saying things like, “I know, I’m probably getting on your nerves,” or “Never mind, I’ll shut up” (when she talks over GPS, with the wrong fucking ditections to boot) and makes similar comments indicating she’s not unaware of my discomfort … and barely inhales another breath before launching back into a running narrative of her own stream of consciousness.
I’ve gotta give her a ride today, and am seriously considering bringing along a ball gag.
That pretty much describes my sister, although she tries really hard to control the impulse, even while it’s pretty clear she can’t control it. I have come to the conclusion that this is a mild-ish form of mental illness, and that she doesn’t want to admit that the problem is serious enough to need professional help. She is otherwise mostly a very nice person, but I find I have to keep my distance (i.e. around 600 miles).
Do you think she could even shut up long enough to listen to the therapist? 
Holy fucking shit.
Guy I used to work with suggests a woman as a FB friend. I send the request.
Seems her page is full of racy stuff with lots of men fawning over her. Ok, fine. Today some guy mentions something about shaving her vagina (which she says no, she’s not clean shaven) and I say something about how painful that would be (um, the vagina is on the inside).
About an hour later she posts on my home page calling me an asshole, but not mentioning what I said that offended her. :eek:
I sent her a message asking what I possibly said, noted that I didn’t care for her insulting me on my home page, then deleted that post and unfriended her.
Goddamn that was rude of her. If you have a problem with something I said, fucking send me a private message and delete the post from your timeline. I didn’t insult or say anything negative about anyone. Posting an insult on my timeline is unacceptable. Narcissistic bitch.
There’s professional help dedicated specifically for people who talk too much?!? The miracles of modern science and medicine!
Joking aside, she does have some mild-ish mental health issues, including anxiety, and I’m ultra sympathetic - which helps dissipate some of my annoyance - but goddamn do I wish people had a mute button.
She’s got a sore throat today** so the afternoon was relatively quiet. Ish.
** I can’t imagine why.
Ah see, in my case the two people most like that which I know are my mother and a friend of hers who’s worse.
Both us and two of Ana’s kids grew up mute buttons in our ears, we can ahum and aha at the right spots without actually paying attention. Ana Daughter takes after her Mom but with more insecurity. Even more insecurity. Which might actually make her the world’s most insecure person over the age of 20 months. Her children never ask her to buy them sweets because where Daddy says “ok, you each get one bag”, hands over the bags for them to fill, and pays, she must examine every single piece of candy, worry whether it has artificial coloring, ask every person in the store including her own children whether it might have artificial coloring… she turns buying a single piece of chewing gum into a collective migraine.
A while back, my mother wondered out loud (she always wonders out loud, of course) how come Ana Daughter “doesn’t seem to have any friends, when you were in school she had so many!” “When we were in school, her constant search for security made her a favorite with the most nunnish of the nuns; being friendly with her gave you points with those same teachers. Nowadays we already passed all our exams and none of us is a nun.”
Ok new rant, I can stay in this house for days on end. Never see a person. Just my pets. And Mr. Wrekker of course. He don’t talk much. We have sort of a short hand between us. A bunch of looks and noises. We have said it all many moons ago. I havent had a need to revise anything, (yet). Today I felt kinda antzy. Don’t know where it came from. I did a bunch of stuff, started a new book, walked my dogs, hemmed some jeans for my daughter. Usually I am happy in my skin and ok being alone and doing my stuff. Not today. I think maybe I have cabin fever. I don’t like it.
My MIL finally sold her house. Her look is very specific (early American farmhouse) and therefore so is most of the furniture.
Out of 6 kids only my husband and his younger brother want anything. The rest will either be tossed or going into storage (MIL is moving in with one of her daughters).
Tossed meaning just that. If you bring up anything about donation MIL will turn white and exclaim, “You’re not donating THAT to THEM! I paid good money for THAT!”
OTOH it also partly explains my husband’s slight hoarding issue…
Wait, what?
She would rather throw stuff away than donate to needy people?
I’d like to clarify that, around here, brine is sprayed well in advance of ice or snow falling, and has the appearance of a white dust on the road once dry. My rant was absolutely not aimed at people who drive sensibly when the roads are an icy mess.
Sadly, we may be coming to the end of salting roads and applying other chemicals.
We’re already noticing in Minnesota how saline this is making our lakes and rivers and may need to stop before they become uninhabitable to freshwater species. The chemicals often used are no better and in some cases worse.
The town (or county) actually thought to add a bunch of sand to the salt they applied to a hill on a secondary highway near my house; it made all the difference.
I’ve wondered what the salt discharge levels are into the local creeks and streams; plants like the one where my dad worked are held to very strict salt discharge limits, yet you rarely hear or read anything about salinity levels after an event like this.