The fucking state of Tasmania in fucking Australia has mailed me a photographic speeding ticket for exceeding the speed limit by all of 12 kilometers per hour while on vacation last month. Thank you for this lovely reminder of the time spent in your fucking state, and don’t expect me back any time soon. When you’re driving on unfamiliar roads with constantly changing speed limits, that shit will happen, and a live cop would probably cut you some slack, but the all-seeing eye in the sky, no way.
To make it worse, I had to pay twice, because the rental car company adds a surcharge. Motherfuckers.
I’m not sure whether to pit Ohio State for taking the lead late in the game, only to be crushed with 20 seconds left, or to pit myself for caring about football. For the last couple years, I’ve managed to shake the old habit of getting worked up about sports, only to have it rear its ugly head again tonight.
Oh, and fuck you, Random Chance, for having a (joking) sarcastic text message from my girlfriend that I took the wrong way arrive just as Texas scored.
Mini rant: Small business owners totally unclear on the concept. For some reason, I’m focusing on coffeehouses these days. Today I was at one, and only by the time I was seated with my tea and logged into my computer did I realize that the owner had KOSTFM, the Los Angeles area soft pap station, blaring out of his tinny radio and turned up to about 9.5. I thought coffeehouses were supposed to have a sort of hip vibe to them, or, even if targeting an older or less on-the-cutting-edge of things clientele, they would have a decent sound track of understated but interesting music from generations past.
Another coffeehouse was taken over by a new owner–this happened about 15 years ago. The first I noticed of the change was that her hyperactive eight year old seemed to be there every afternoon, climbing on the counter and under tables, and generally breaching the peace. Then she brought in what looked like my grandmother’s living room hutch, with doilies and curios displayed in it–this in a place where the night barista and I used to trade interesting CDs from obscure bands. This place didn’t last too long after that.
Later this month my work group of about 35 people is going on a team-building “retreat”. I am not looking forward to it, primarily because this will be the first time I’ll be interacting heavily with one of our newer managers, who I dislike a great deal. Hopefully the retreat will be someplace interesting, thought I. And at least we’ll be fed.
This morning we were informed where the retreat will be… it’s a non-descript conference room on-campus.
A few minutes ago the Pot Luck Sign-up Sheet was posted.
Note to self: Never, ever try to drive in Calgary between 3 and 4 pm. That’s when all the kids get out of all the schools, and all the school buses are in all the driving lanes, all the school and playground zones are in effect, all the roads are clogged with SUVs full of one parent and one child, and all the kids are straggling across the road one…by one…by one, with just enough space between them so cars won’t go.
Note to boss: My shift ends at 2 - I have planned it that way, and that was the deal when I started (for reasons, see above). If you need me to stay until 3, go fuck yourself, you micro-managing, incompetent control freak. Regarding making me work two extra hours because the office closed early on December 31st? Go fuck yourself even more.
Fuck it’s cold. Condensation is freezing on the door’s glass panes on the inside. It’s probably gonna get near -20°C tonight. This isn’t fucking Canada ferchissakes! Where the fuck is global warming when you need it?
It’s “chick,” not “chic.” Funny Blonde Friend, you’re a pretty funny chick, so I’ll give you a pass. QA manager for the whole company, you’re a mature, well educated woman, not some dumb chic - sorry, chick - so there’s no excuse. Wise up.
Fuck the bus driver who cut across two lanes of traffic this morning right in front of me. If I hadn’t stood on my brake and stalled my car, I would have hit you. And, I realised later, I probably would have technically been at fault, as I believe all rear collisions are blamed on the driver behind, no matter what fuckwittery the forward driver engaged in to cause the collision.
And I pit myself for not noting the company name on the tour bus so I could ring up and abuse them later.
The friggin’ bus drivers in my city do that, too - they turn on the signal AS I’m driving by them, and come right out. Hello, Mr. Idiot Bus Driver - you have to wait your turn like everyone else; two bodies just can’t occupy the same space.
It’s entitled idiots night here at the corner market in this sleepy rural community north of Los Angeles.
As I am nearing said market, some douche in a lifted truck decides his precious is too good for a normal parking space and just parks across all of them (in the very tiny lot). This not only deprives me of a normal spot, but the way he did it forced me to use the exit driveway which is also at a bit of a grade and I have a tiny car. Something scraped on the way up. :mad: Thank you, captain douchebag!
Attention tweeker lady: putting your items on the counter is not the same as being in line. Your items do not hold your place. And thanks for taking your time to add on all sorts of other crap at the last moment. She counted out her money for one total, decided she needed a bottle of Jack Daniels’, counted out for the NEXT total and then decided she wanted cigarettes and a lotto ticket. Shit lady, get all your vices lined up FIRST then sit in line like the rest of us.
It’s not? So why the FUCK did you cancel my cable tv last night, when we’re not moving until next week? And also, why the double fuck can you fuckers not get it back on? Turning it off was apparently as simple as flipping a switch, so turning it on should be the same in reverse, no? No, apparently not.
You know how you have to train the voice recognition software on a computer for a while before it knows how to interpret your words/voice?
Lately, my brain has been a lot like bad voice recognition software. For example, we were visiting my grandparents’ rental condo on the 7th floor in Florida recently, and they were showing me the bathroom. I asked Grandpa, “What, a window in the shower?” He responded, “You can close the blinds. I never do though. If people want to look they can go ahead; I’ll just grow some out.” Huh?
Half an hour later, I interpreted the words correctly. I’ll just gross 'em out. And this kind of thing has happened a lot more recently. :smack:
They fixed it. It only took 17 hours, and 5 phone calls.
God damn this single-provider system (yes, we only have one cable provider in this country. 2 if you’re on the east coast. But the 2nd is owned by the 1st anyway…)
