Yours is 25 whole feet from your stove? Mine is (goes and measures) 10 whole feet from mine. It’s about that far away from the steamy shower, too. I’m fully behind working smoke detectors in my house, but having it go off every time I cook or take a shower is counter-productive, because then the battery gets taken out and maybe I remember to put it back in.
Naughty kids in the dorm used to put plastic bags over the detectors with rubber bands if they wanted to … burn incense. Back in the day. Does that not work anymore?
Burn incense, 
You know, eat a sandwich. 
Yup, 25 entire feet (maybe a little more… I’m guesstimating based on the size of the kitchen and dining room. The detector is actually around the corner in the foyer.) I’ll try the rubber band and baggy trick until I get a new one. Thanks for the tips!
And the newest: Hey kid at the grocery store. You know what? You’re too dumb to bag my groceries. It may be genetics, or environmental, since your parents named you Kalab, so maybe I shouldn’t fault you, but please don’t ever touch my groceries again! (And I make it so easy, by being completely OCD about how stuff goes on the conveyor. The canned goods are grouped together, and the boxes, and the non-food, and meats, and then frozen, dairy, produce, eggs, and bread. It’s not difficult to work from that model!)
1983…Atlanta, GA…the management of the apartment complex where I have a studio apartment installs smoke detectors in all the apartments during the day when everyone is at work/school. No notice is left that the detectors have been installed.
Approximately 6pm…smoke detectors start going off all over the building. They were placed about two feet from where the oven vented at ceiling level.
Scared the crap out of a whole lot of people - contentedly cooking dinner when this shrill siren you don’t know is in your apartment starts sounding…
I’ve actually clocked nurses who haven’t realized that I’m not being difficult, I’m being terrified of needles. I got a lecture from the doctor and my mom for that, but those nurses fucking knew I’m needlephobic so as far as I’m concerned (fifteen years later, even) they deserved it.
So, as I previously ranted (way back on page 1), I am sick. A few days ago, I decided that since I was feeling like crap but wanted to be healthy (ie: not a burger), I’d get some takeout from my favorite Middle Eastern restaurant.
Now, this place is a little hole in the wall right by my house. The minute I discovered it (right after it opened), I shouted their good name from the rooftops— reviewing them all over the internet, telling all my friends, taking large groups in, using them for catering, etc. This place is delicious. Of course, they are not without their shortcomings: service can be slower than molasses on a cold day, among other service related things. But the food. . . the good is so good! I wanted them to do well because I never wanted that deliciousness to be torn from my life.
But then it happened.
Anyway, I ordered my takeout and the owner said it would be about 15 mins before it was ready. Knowing their slowness, I waited about 25 minutes before even getting in my car and heading over. When I got there, there was one group of five in the dining area, but the rest of the place was empty. I stood there by the register fiddling with my iPhone, waiting for someone to come out. And I waited. And waited. 15 minutes (real life minutes, not I’m being dramatic and exaggerating time for effect minutes) went by and finally, the owner came out from the kitchen with tea for the table. And then he turned and walked right back in the kitchen. Ok. . . I waited another 20 minutes with no acknowledgement and, feeling like total poop with this head cold, I just left and went home.
And this is where it gets good:
45 minutes later I see my iPhone light up because I have a voicemail (I always keep it on silent)- it’s the owner and he’s saying my order is ready. As I’m listening to that voicemail, I get another call, this time from the owner’s wife. She tells me that my order is ready and I explain what happened-- not hostile or anything, just saying he was probably busy in the kitchen, blah blah. I half expected an apology and her saying not to worry. . . except that’s not at all what happened.
Instead, she (literally) screamed at me: “YOU CANNOT DO THAT! YOU CANNOT ORDER THEN NOT COME GET IT. WE NOW KNOW WE CAN’T TRUST YOU! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE AGAIN!”
Wait. What? WHAT? I waited 35 minutes in their store with zero acknowledgement from anyone, I didn’t complain, and you’re screaming at me that I’m no longer welcome at your store? *No problem. *
Yeah, end of that place.
When I lived in North Minneapolis, there was this hole in the wall bar 4 blocks away that delivered pizza and burgers. Never had an issue with them, they were always great, always reasonably on-time.
Then they changed management. I had my gaming group over and we ordered from them once again. TWO HOURS LATER, the delivery person shows up at the door. I admit that I was rather unkind to this person, and then felt horrible about it, because it wasn’t her fault. But my whole group was seriously unhappy.
Then she leaves and we actually open the food.
Carbon puck burgers. Burnt Pizza. Black fries. Totally inedible.
Two hours and you deliver inedible food?
Never ordered there again. About six months later the place closed.
Gorram cold will not die!!!
It’s been a month. between the copious ampunt of snot from my snout and the hacking up lung cookies, I hev been miserable. Not miserable enough to miss work, but still. I am amazed at how many times I blowing my nose on any given day.
WHEN WILL IT END???
Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not going to stop though, because the reason I started doing it was that at about the 8 second mark you* start asking if I’m still there, because if you’re calling my place of work you’re probably over 70 and cranky about the long distance charges you’re certain you’re racking up and insecure about your hearing and/or grasp of newfangled phone tree technology. Love you lots but I know you need constant attention so I keep up the patter while the database churns. Sometimes we talk about the weather or where your grandkids go to college.
*not you
You’re a very rare sort of person for understanding that! There’s this one guy in the company who works from home, and is always calling me for information. This has been going on for over four years, but I have to explain to him EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. that I have to locate the appropriate folder or pull up the right program before I can start searching for the information he’s requesting. When the folder or the program finally loads, he gets pissy because I can’t remember the series of part numbers he’s been rattling off.
My poor car and my bad mood.
First the positive: TheKid will be attending the Baking and Patisserie program at Le cordon Bleu next July. happy dance
Now the negatives:
It’s common in the Twin Cities if you live on one side of a city, you rarely venture to the other side of the city. Ask me where something is on the northside of Minneapolis, I’m gold. Cross 394 and I have no freaking clue. My old hoopdie did well driving to timbukfuckingtu (read: by the airport) though. My kid, who has yet to get her license, will be driving to said timbukfuckingtu daily - our insurance agent will love us.
TheKid is slightly angsty about attending a tech program, as many of her friends are doing 4 year colleges. She’s weirded out that in slightly over 12 months she’ll have a nifty certificate calling her a pastry chef, while her buddies are still getting basics out of the way. Guess what, kid, you don’t have the grades to get into a 4 year college, even if you wanted to. Yes, you can go to a community college to do you basics and then move on to a 4 year, but you have said for the past year that baking is what you want. Yes, I am glad your BFF is attending my alma mater, but even if you could get in they have no programs you are interested in. Gah.
Then, after we left timbukfuckingtu, she asked if we could go get her state ID. Sure, let’s drive all the way home then all the way to South Minneapolis, as our county has decided the only place you can get your ID is at this one location. Again, the whole “If you’re from one side of the city…” comes into play. After getting lost more than a few times, we get there only to discover what the county says on their website is different than what they need as far as verification. Fuckity fuck. TheKid is pissed, somehow I am to blame, there is no time to go get the other verification and get back to this same place, even if I could find it again.
You want to know why she’s in a fit about wanting her ID? Because she can’t get into R rated movies. Driving to hell and back because she gets carded at AMC.
We get home, she promised to do the dishes but suddenly she doesn’t feel well. Bullshit. And to top it off, we have something in one of our walls. Every year about this time something gets in there and eventually dies. I’m not sure how it gets in, it’s only this one spot, but it’s fucking annoying. Tonight I will have to sleep with the TV on, otherwise I know I will be awake all night trying to hear whatever it is try to get in the house and kill me. Sleeping with the TV on will lead to me not getting a good sleep, so I know I’ll be a cranky frankie tomorrow, too.
Check your spelling (or have the pharmacist recheck). What dosage? Just looking at drugstoredotcom, the only way to pay $170 for even a 50mg dose (fairly high) is to buy nearly 200 of them.
Also look at Wal*mart pharmacy. They might be able to do a lot better than, say, CVS.
Yeah, assuming you mean the Zyrtec generic, not Zoloft, get the OTC stuff and throw out the prescription - after checking with your doctor that there’s nothing special about the type he wants you to take. I got a huge bottle of the stuff at Costco for $12 or so.
Damn foreignors! 
Hopefully not doing the Cordon Bleu thing, getting a pretty much worthless certificate that will entitle her to the same $8 an hour cooking jobs she could get without all the student loans.
Yes, LCB, but not culinary. If she wanted to go culinary, she could go to HennTech, like her dad. Pastry is a different world.
And, I’m actually not all that cranky (yet). TheKid, however, supposedly couldn’t sleep a wink due to my TV being on. Ignore the fact that she sleeps with her TV on and her door closed.
So, tomorrow is the big football game :rolleyes: and I knew a bunch of people would be out, but everybody? Seriously?
I’m nearly the only person in this department today. For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the damn building. Well, this is going to be fun. :mad:
Yeah, but you can burp and fart and pick your nose!
What are you saying? That IS fun! A day to do whatever you want, without anyone else bugging you! I set your task for today to start five threads on the Dope today. 