Dear econo-box ‘driveing’ bitch, please note I am in a van. A van that your piece of shit car is UNDER the line of sight of. So do not try to back into my van, then honk, get out and attempt to berate me in whatever third-world dialet that you were jabbering in. We are in a Wallyworld parking lot. Want to take a wildassed guess what they sell in the sporting goods section?
Fracking brain donor.
Tennis Balls?
Ugh. Look people, I splurged on rodeo tickets for one reason and one fucking reason alone, to watch the Musical Ride. Not to watch you do musical chairs with you, your friends, enemies and your ten children. Fine you got the seating sorted out (because apparently no one can read their tickets or the seat numbers) and get settled and then, THEN you pull out the massive umbrella AND POP IT OPEN. Seriously?
You seriously pop open a black umbrella that must have been at least four if not five feet across and angle it across the line of vision of everyone sitting just above and to the side of you in the middle of the fucking musical ride? Most notably completely blocking the view of the one person who can’t easily stand in front of her seat?
So when she goes ‘excuse me’ five fucking times and only THEN pokes you and tells you to put the umbrella away so she can see in a tone much nicer than I would have used don’t give HER the dirty look. She’s not the fucking idiot here. If you really needed your precious babies to be shaded from the sun maybe you should have thought of something better. Like a hat and more clothing instead of a onesie and an umbrella.
Stupid people.
I hope the next gen of iPads doesn’t carry such a high price premium for additional storage. I got the 16gb version, the cheapest there is. After 185 songs, some pictures and a score of apps, I have 10gb free space.
I’m currently loading the HD Extended Edition Return of the King. It’s 8.72gb. :eek:
ok, maybe that’s a stealth brag.
Younger child of mine, you are four. You are an awesome sleeper, and reasonably good at entertaining yourself, and I know that overall I am blessed. Nevertheless, it really doesn’t feel like a blessing when I take you to the potty and you refuse to go, and one minute later you poop a freaking softball. It’s worse because you insisted on wearing your swimsuit all day, with the mesh lining. The softball fell on the floor of the grotty public bathroom at the playground, and I had to try to pick it up and get it in the potty, which resulted in my getting poop all over my hands despite my attempts to wrap it in TP. Then I had to tell you not to move while I shouted at my deaf mother-in-law until she came over to the bathroom and took my keys so she could go get the spare clothes out of the car for me. Then I did my best to clean the poop off the bathroom floor. Thank god it didn’t clog the toilet - I was afraid that it would.
Please oh please oh please, would you just learn to use the potty? Like, daily? I don’t really want to up your dose of Miralax any farther, but every four days is too damn far apart. It’s no wonder that it’s not comfortable when you finally go.
Honestly, the child can read better than most first graders. You’d think he could manage this.
The postal service in my tract has gotten so bad that some neighbors have begun taking their mail to another city to send it out. Of course, this doesn’t solve the ongoing problems of misdelivery and nondelivery.
A year ago, I called the Postmaster General after getting nowhere with the local p.o. They must have gotten on their case right away, because a few days later, I got a message from a postal supervisor asking me to please call them if there were any more problems (as if it had worked the first time.) I also received, in my mailbox, a big card that read: SPECIAL NOTICE–EXERCISE EXTREME CARE REGARDING THIS SPECIAL SITUATION. [my name and address] CUSTOMER MISDELIVERY PROBLEMS. DOUBLE CHECK BEFORE YOU DELIVER.
And here is the kicker: DO NOT DELIVER THIS CARD.
Fast forward to right now: All my neighbors are up in arms over more misdeliveries and nondeliveries. They skipped my entire street recently, so I made a call to the local p.o. and we got a double delivery the next day. But the carriers have revealed some tidbits here and there to some inquiring folks: The senior carriers like to quit and go home early, so they don’t make all the rounds; this is no longer a regular route and they split it up because it is so long, etc.
My neighbors up the street have been skipped over three times in one week because their house sits on a corner which is either the beginning of one route or the end of one, so they get ignored.
What shall we do? Should everyone call the postmaster general and complain en masse? Or would that just earn us even more spiteful retaliation?
I’m convinced our regular carrier can’t really read. Hello, we have a BIG number (X) painted on our mail box. So why the hell do you put the mail for X+2 into the box? I’m not talking a stray misdelivered bit of junk mail, either. Last week we got an entire box load of our neighbor’s mail, including what were probably birthday cards and three utility type bills.
And our mail? My guess is that it went into X-2’s box instead. I’m a good person, so I walked X+2’s mail over to them. Unfortunately X-2 don’t get home until late, and I’m too scared to simply open their box and check for our mail. 
Hey, assholes. I appreciate that you actually made one of those “hidden object” games interesting by integrating adventure game elements. But when you put up a game without words such as “preview” or “demo” in the title, people expect a full game. It can be a short game. But don’t just, right when the game is getting going, suddenly cut away to a weird cinematic and start thanking people for playing your preview. Tell us it’s a preview.
Oh, and shithead reviewers–when someone pulls a bait and switch like that, don’t fucking give them 5 stars! Especially when you say in your review that they should have told you it was a preview. Is it the eBay mindset or something, where you think anything less than five stars means you hated it?
Back when I worked for the library, I helped send out postcards about the new grand opening to supporters. We were asking for donations, but people who were supporters told us that they hadn’t gotten their post cards.
The next time I sent a batch of 600 postcards out, I sent 2 to myself at work and 2 at home. I got ONE back. I never trust the mail to work anymore. When I send out my wedding invites, I will follow them up by email and if I’m told that they didn’t get the invitation, I’ll send a new one.
Speaking of getting married…Bill is here tonight. Sleeping off the excitment of trying to get Steve to leave. Steve is the feral cat who has chosen to live in a cage and eat gooshy food. Bill thinks that he doesn’t want to move said wild cat, and I agree.
The problem is that Steve doesn’t want to leave the cage and I don’t want to risk my hands by shoving Steve out of the cage. I will roll Steve’s cage to the door and open the cage doors on a regular basis and hope that he will leave on his own. Steve just hunkers in the back of the cage and hisses.
Tonight, Bill told me that he would take care of the problem. He rolled the cage to the door, opened the cage doors and kicked the back of the cage. This worked to get Steve out of the cage.
Steve squirmed up the outside of the cage, found the highest spot next to the cage, which just happened to be Bill, climbed Bill, launched himself off Bill’s head and leaped onto the pot shelf. (this is a shelf in homes here that is just under the ceiling that people use to display breakable things like ceramic pots.)
The good news is that blood is easy to clean from my laminate floors. The bad news is that my collection of Native American pots shattered on the laminate floor and scared poor Steve into running onto my other shelves and finally finding a hiding place under the couch. Which of course upset my housecats and they paniced and ran around and squalled and knocked my books off the shelves and broke everything they could reach.
Currently, the gooshy food cage is back in the litterbox room. The doors are open and there is gooshy food in the bowl. Bill is snoring in my bedroom, my housecats are locked up with him and the doors to the other rooms are closed.
And, Bill has agreed that he will never, ever doubt me about dealing with feral cats again. We will use lots of drugs on Steve when its time to move.
Poor Steve. Poor Bill.
snicker
Sometimes lessons must be learned. At least Steve only climbed Bill and didn’t bite him.
I’m really sorry about your pottery collection; I know that will be difficult to replace.
Poor flatlined. Please forgive me for giggling…
I am so pissed that I am almost in shock. My husband decided to try to rehab the fugly dining room table and chairs that he has had forever and for which we have been trying to find replacements. Thumbs up for that. He decided to do this while I was away as a surprise for me. Thumbs up for that. He decided to do this by spray painting the chairs INSIDE OUR BRAND NEW CONDO. :smack:
What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? What the motherfucking fucking fuck were you thinking?
He stopped when he realized that spray paint comes out of the can in a fine mist. So, now, our dining area floor is covered in a fine mist of white spray paint. On the plus side, the floors are a distressed white but still… WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!!!
I am really sick of trying to match up socks so a couple weeks ago I went out and bought two large packages of my favorite black nike sports socks. No problem says I, dozens of pairs of the same socks in one colour. So today is laundry day and I am folding socks (or I was before I quit to get a drink and bitch). It turns out each package is not quite entirely different from the other. One has ribbing across the sole, one has a slightly higher top. So now instead of trying to make pairs of brightly coloured very different socks I need to try and make pairs of ALMOST but not quite identical socks.
I believe I’m about to donate 2 dozen new but washed socks. Fuckers. I would have sworn the packages were identical too. Fucking fuckers.
A while ago (two years? three? four?) I bought my husband two dozen black socks, and one dozen white socks, all from Wilson socks, and all of them going up to the knee, which he prefers. He put all of his other socks into another sock drawer, in case we need to make a cat toy or something. And now he’s happy, because sorting socks is as easy as telling the difference between black or white. However, I ordered the socks online, and I ordered multiple packs (I think they came in three or four pairs per pack).
I was going to go meet up with a group for lunch, but the website listed the wrong meeting place. Sure, the EMAIL listed the right place, but I only glanced at it. I should have read it more closely. I don’t have a smart phone, so I couldn’t check my email at the restaurant.
After all of that, if you two are still getting married, it must be real love! 
Lol.
Article on one of the local newspaper websites about how some companies may drop employee health insurance and pay the penalty. About 10 comments crying about how the new law is destroying America.
I post asking why a company would drop coverage under the new law rather than dropping it before there was a penalty, and how there is any less of a social and economic penalty for companies NOT offering coverage just because the law changes.
I get the following response;
Still doesn’t answer the question about why they feel the need to offer health care now, but won’t under the new law.
Please do laugh 
If I had seen a video of it online, I would have laughed so hard I might have peed myself. It took about 10 seconds from Bill’s “here, watch this” in his cute Texan accent to blood and a destroyed living room. The only part that was missing was Bill telling me to hold his beer. (which got spilled when Steve climbed the tower of Bill.)
This morning, Steve was laying on top of his cage. When he saw me, he hissed and went into the cage and we did our normal thing. Steve on the bottom of the cage while I refilled his kibble bowl and putting a bowl of gooshy food on the shelf, then Steve jumping onto the top shelf while I cleaned his box.
I left the cage doors open. Bill is worried that Steve will come into the bedroom in the middle of the night and try to eat his face or something. Bill loves to run survey crews through places that have rattlesnakes big enough to eat jackrabbits. Bill has been known to hide in his truck because of bears and badgers. In Bill’s mispent youth, he got shot over a pot deal. When Bill was going to sleep tonight, he asked me to close the bedroom door because he was afraid of a cat.
For those who don’t know about feral cats…feral cats don’t attack humans unless they are threatened or cornered. Steve didn’t attack Bill, he used Bill as a launching place to get away from the threat.
Bill does such things as put his dishes in the dishwasher. Bill will scoop the litter boxes with out being asked. Bill will help me rake the yard. Our big point of contention is the AC. He wants it to be meatlocker cold. I’m wearing a jacket in my home because he can’t sleep when its only 74 degrees F.
And he’s a morning person. Its very possible that the reason he thinks I don’t need all my guns is because he’s afraid that one morning, he will want me to get up to look at the sunrise and I’ll use all of them on him.
Chimera, let me guess… strib?
The only reason my morning person husband is still alive is because I cannot focus well enough to see him to kill him. But, it’s worked for almost 19 years so far!
flatlined, he just wants a place to hang his CD’s.
As to the morning person part, the only way he redeems himself is if he makes dammed good coffee.
Oh god.
Went on facebook, and there’s a message from my cousin. The one who was voluntarily sectioned a few weeks ago, and discharged himself at 4am after a few days, because he thinks the drugs are stopping his 3rd eye from working properly. He’s having another go at starting the fight he really wants to have with his Dad again, and he invited me to join him! Yay! Just what I want to do! Pick sides between someone who hasn’t done anything wrong and someone who will turn on you if you point out that he’s going nuts!
Oh, and the fire alarm is going off at random again, and they appear to have disabled the silencer button.