The sad part is, when my director handed it to me, she sat down, opened the little baggie up, pulled it out and went on this long-winded explanation that it was made by some hot-shot local glass blower and how it’s TOTALLY UNIQUE! All the while, I’m sitting there, doing my best fake “oh, thank you so much for this priceless gift” smile.
Even a lump of coal would turn into a diamond eventually.
When she eventually notices that it’s not on your desk, you can tell her it’s doing its job weighing down other unique crap in the landfill.
Heh. My thought upon opening such a gift is always, “Yay! Now I don’t have to buy anything for the NEXT mandatory gift swap.”
Here, the city sends out the sidewalk plows whenever the road plows go out. Most residential back streets outside the city centre don’t have (or need) sidewalks, however, so it’s not as much of a job as clearing the streets. I’ve never actually lived anywhere where we had a sidewalk out in front of our house.
My immediate supervisor is a complete yutz, but his supervisor seems to be a lovely lady. She bought me a Christmas present (even though I’m a temp, too - a part-time temp, even) which is a very pretty glass candle holder. I’m always surprised at the different ways people treat temps - at this point, 15 years in, I truly don’t care beyond getting treated with basic human dignity, but some people treat you like a regular staff member, and some people treat you like furniture. Yutz Boy is one of the latter.
My wife wanted the Vera Wang pajamas that were on sale at Kohl’s. I went to two different stores, and found the display piled high with a variety of different colors and patterns…all in XL or XXL. :mad:
I’ve given up until next year on buying the items I want. The so-called “sale prices” are exactly the same as the non-sale prices, so why rush?
I almost never buy clothes at full price; the way I figure it, if I wait for a little while for it to go on sale and it’s still there (and cheaper) later, that’s the universe’s way of telling me that I was meant to have that. 
Not too bad, it was breakfast, I asked them to not include potatoes with my eggs, bacon and english muffin and I got a huge pile of potatoes on my plate. Hubby asked for english muffin too, he got white toast. Not the worst thing but I hate wasting food.
Yes, they eventually turned down the Christmas muzak. I have to say, we were just absolutely dumbfounded that anyone would love Alvin and the Chipmunks so much that they “got goosebumps” when they heard them sing. It was surreal.
In other news, I’ve received two Christmas cards with misplaced apostrophes. When will people learn that you don’t use an apostrophe to pluralize a name. You’re the Wilsons or the Smiths. So it’s Merry Christmas from the Wilsons not the Wilson’s
Oh, and in a bit of Christmas irony, our receptionist at work has a note pad that says “no two snowflakes are alike” the note pad is printed very prettily with snowflakes…identical snowflakes, a whole page of them. It made me laugh.
So we’re in an art museum, looking at various things, and my Ms sees a lithograph from 1926 that she would like. The artist is very well known in the PNW, and she’s an art freak, so I didn’t sweat the $500 tag on it. So we’re looking at it, and another woman comes over and says “We are thinking of buying that, just so you know. . .” Gee, thanks for the update.
So we walk around and come back, and the litho is still sitting there. So the Ms picks it up and looks at it again, then turns to the woman, who is hovering nearby, and asks: “so are you buying this?” The woman snarls “Yes! And we were looking at it first!” I laughed at her, and she gave me a poisonous look. The saleswoman jumped in quickly to defuse things by saying “I was showing them these items before”.
Well, in my world, he who is first to the cash register wins the day, but I let it go. Looking back on it, I wish I had picked up the litho, ripped it in half, then handed her my credit card. Tis the season for hostilities, after all.
I wouldn’t get into a fight over it (and I’m not saying you did, either), but I agree - it’s for sale until such time as you actually pay for it, or the store puts a “Sold” sign on it. I like your idea, too, Chefguy. Very King Solomon. 
My daughter and I were in a beauty salon. We noticed that the place was decorated with paper cutout “snowflakes” that were four sided. Snowflakes are SIX sided, people! Get it right! To make matters worse, most of the snowflakes were still half folded…the people who cut them out didn’t bother to fold them back along the original folds, so they’d be somewhat flat.
These idiots on the plane could not figure out the boarding and storage of carry-ons process for the life of them. I mean, more so than the standard issue idiot who finds something terribly confusing about putting a bag away and sitting down. For some reason, no one seemed to be able to figure out were their seat was (I’m not kidding), and were walking back and forth down the aisles before finally solving the puzzle. After that, and discovering to their apparent puzzlement that all five of them weren’t seated together, they had a brief conversation in the aisle about switching their assigned arrangement around so that Bobby could sit next to Sally, or whatever else. I was a split-second away from saying, “Jerks! Sit in your assigned seats, and figure that out later,” but they agreed to do so before I said anything.
Then there was another (seeming) three and a half hours of them trying to find overhead space. Eventually, the guy found a spot, and proceeded to place his roller bag in horizontally. I said, “Place your bag in with the wheels facing the back; this way there is more room for other people’s items,” trying my best to not sound like I was snapping at him. “Oh, thanks,” he said, stupidly, and then I punched him in the face repeatedly. No, I’m making up the part about punching him in the face, but I wish I had.
I remember those assholes from ticketing. They were the clan of five who clearly thought the best place to stop and gawk re-combobulate themselves was in the middle of a busy walkway. Am I the only person in the world who pulls over when I’m lost or confused, as opposed to coming full stop in the middle of everything, and creating a five-person-wide barricade? Goddamn holidays and goddamn noob travelers.
The flight was somewhat redeemed by the following conversation:
Stewardess: What’s your name?
Five year old boy: Superman.
Awesome.
That’s where I pick it up and carry it around with me. If she squeels, I say “You were only thinking about it. I’m doing it.”
The triumvirate of useless office gift-exchange items: Picture frames, mugs, and candles. How many did you accumulate this year? I got two mugs. I drink neither coffee nor tea, and neither mug is microwaveable.
My mom was all excited to get me a Kinect, because my niece and nephews had asked for one and I’d mentioned that I don’t have one, so she was thrilled that she could sneak around and surprise me. Well, I don’t have a blistering need for one at this point, but hey.
Fucker won’t work! It has the audacity to tell me maybe I should move some goddamned furniture! Look, this is not some NYC closet apartment; this is a house that I own. How the fuck can you go around releasing a game peripheral that needs more space than a real house has in its living room? My mom’s going to be crestfallen and I bet they won’t take it back because it has a game in it that I opened (you need to put the damned thing in to calibrate it.)
She was so excited! And now I feel like an ungrateful monster because the damned thing needs the Astrodome.
I’m thinking now that I should find out who looked at our house first and offer to let them have it.
I’m thinking that Una Persson should do that…
Dear Jane,
Thank you for calling us to let us know that you were sick. But I have to ask, why are you upset that we decided not to come to your house to eat dinner on Christmas Eve? Yes, the turkey that you handled will be in the oven for several hours. Yes, you have Lysol spray. Yes, you say you will stay in your room. But you have VOMITING AND DIARRHEA! That’s not one of the presents I want for Christmas.
Sincerely, Pudytat72
I hate you. Clearly my Dutch oven had not heard the orders to chip until you put those thoughts into its head; I opened it up yesterday to carry some food over to my inlaws’ in it, and one of the “basting nubs” on the inside of the lid had all of the enamel flaked off of it and in a pile in the bottom of the pot. :mad:
sigh Time to get a new, non-Martha one.