It could be worse. He could be British and watch the Commonwealth Games every other 4 years too.
(pity me - it’s coming to my city in 2014) 
Mornings that start with yawn *stretching * “Oh Gawd what’s that SMELL?!?!” are not the start of good days.
Answer : kitteh diarrhea …
I’ll be doing a lot of laundry and floor-mopping today. As if my day off didn’t have a long enough to-do list. There goes MY nap.
I’m going to sound like the biggest bitch ever, but I don’t care right now.
I get my hair dyed and cut every 6 weeks, on a Saturday. There is a grandfather who brings in his 3 grandkids on some Saturdays as well. I come in early because it’s convenient and because I’m usually done before the kids come in.
One of the grandchildren has some kind of developmental disorder, to the point of being non-verbal, and will shriek loudly at times, which I know can’t be helped. Plus the granddad never brings in stuff for these grade-school-age kids to amuse themselves with, so the other kids end up winding themselves up with boredom and eventually start spinning on the shop chairs, and his response is always to just let them get out of hand and then suddenly yell for them to knock it off. Plus his speaking voice is just loud as-is.
Not exactly a relaxing experience.
Today, he shows up super-early (without calling to notify, judging by the owner’s reaction) because he has to work in the afternoon. :smack: I’m going to have to start booking even earlier, I think.
I gotta admit, I expected something far more outrageous than ‘‘out of control kids are annoying.’’ If you want to be a bitch, you’re going to have to work a lot harder than that.
I figured the mere mention of a shrieking developmentally-disabled kid might get me some shit. And I do deeply sympathize with the bored kids, but still, they needed to STFU already.
I mean, I get it’s tough for this guy (maybe mid-50s) to deal with the challenges of being a grandpa/weekend helper for his daughter’s kids, but for fuck’s sake, bring something along for the two boys who go into “OMG bored!!1” mode every goddamned time I’ve seen them there between waiting for haircuts. Today they dropped a timer used for keeping track of hair dye, etc., sessions.
And call first to see if there’s an opening? Another woman and I were both getting our hair done at the time, and the owner fit the kids in when he could, but I just wanted to get the hell out ASAP.
Someone knocked at my door with a pamphlet about how to “improve the health of my heart”. I could sort of guess where this was going so I asked how. She said “you know, in the religious way.” I asked what that had to do with the health of my heart. She said, getting right with God and improving my life or something like that. I said “oh, you mean a special diet or something”. She gamely smiled and said no and so I just said I wasn’t interested.
It’s pretty ballsy to try to get your foot in the door offering what sounds like genuine health advice on first listen. I geniunely didn’t know if she was an evangelist or a snake oil salesperson for a couple seconds.
Bill isn’t very happy that Steve is loose in the house and will be moving with me. If Steve starts drinking Bill’s beer, it will be a total deal breaker!
Steve has no interest in being my friend. He’s just a smart cat who likes gooshy food twice a day, enjoys being somewhere that the temp only ranges from 70F to 80F and has a slave to clean his litterbox.
I tried to take the litterbox out of his cage because it would be much easier on me if he would use the big ones that the other cats use. He pooped and peed on the bottom of his cage. Steve is not a tame cat, he’s a wild animal who just happens to look like my smooshy housecats. Its on me to remember to take baby steps with him.
(notice that I didn’t get up on my soap box to lambast idiots who think that leaving kittens around a colony of feral cats would be a good idea. I have lots of rage for that, and could post a wall of text without repeating bad words. I’m glad you were able to save your Sugar. She’s a lucky baby!)
You have my sympathy. I hope it was just a one time thing, and that kitteh isn’t sick.
Actually, what I got from your post is that you were annoyed at the caregiver for not controlling his charges. I agree with you that Dad or Grandpa should at least bring crayons and paper for the kids because they are his responsibility.
My rant: FUCK TIME ZONES!!! Yeah, I know they are needed, but it still ticks me off when Bill calls me at 7 my time to tell me goodnight. He’s now 3 hours away, I’m not ready to cuddle up in bed and have sleepy talk with him. I hates having to look at the clock, think about where he is, wonder about DSL and mentally figure out what time it is for him and if I can call without waking him up or disturbing him at work.
Yes, Bill will answer my call anytime. That’s not the point. I don’t like to wake people up and I don’t like to call for a chat when the callee is in the middle of a meeting.
I’m flipping mad about the time difference. When I’m Queen of the World, everyone, EVERYONE will be on MY time!!!
I got that too and was going to find a link to an actual 12 week fetus but it sounded like too much work. Unless it keeps showing up…
False alarm. I woke up the morning after my “I’m late” post to not only my period starting but the beginning of the migraine from hell as well. You know it’s going to be a bad day when you can feel the headache before you even open your eyes. I’m finally back to what passes for normal around here.
I swear I barely moved the last few days. How did this place get so messy and who wore all these clothes in the laundry basket?
Whoever decided that English ivy would look all pretty a picturesque in the front flower bed and around the two lampposts in the front yard: Fuck. You. I hope you get fleas in your shag carpet. May you develop terminal ass acne. May your next six pack of beer be skunky. May your toddler find the Sharpies. I hope you suffer the Heartbreak of Psoriasis. May you be plagued with a farty dog. I hope your night owl neighbor buys a Harley and cranks it every morning at 2. And 3.
My mother was attacked by a mentally/developmentally disabled child last year, so I wasn’t about to give you any shit. (“She just wants to say ‘hi’!” chirped the caretaker. Yeah, is that going to be your excuse when the kid is 30 and still jumping people in department stores?)
Dude, you’re giving me flashbacks.
I was delivering well over $100,000 to a bank in a public building with a ground level open courtyard. I had to take the elevator up a level to one of three banks in the building. Fucking caretaker on the elevator with a kid in a wheelchair, keeping the kid in position to block anyone from getting on. Going up and down, up and down…
After better than 5 minutes of this - me standing in the open in a public place with a hand truck holding over $100k, several other people standing around me also waiting - I forced my way onto the elevator and snarled “I don’t have time for this shit”. Then when I got into the bank, I told the manager what had happened and he called building security to have them removed.
She called me “rude”. I didn’t say anything, but if looks could kill, she would have been a fine mist on the inside of the elevator.
Goddamned selfish fucking asshole caretakers in public spaces…
Or he could be Canadian, and get the Olympics, the Commonwealth Games, and the Panamerican Games*.
*coming to my city in 2015.
Hmm, I could probably get work Photoshopping fetuses (howz bout giving a “thumbs up”!). Bet that’d get used by the Facebook Fetus crowd.
flatlined, Where the hell is Bill that he is 3 hours away? I know that Az. is it’s own special snowflake of a timezone, but that sounds like he is off a coast somewhere…
Does it make me a jerk that I really just don’t even like this dog? I can hardly wait til her gets adopted. I’m actually considering trying to switch him with someone else for a better dog.
Last night, he ate my whole loaf of bread and tomatoes. And then he had diarrhea on my couch and all over my floor. The bread was on a high shelf and the tomatoes were on top of my microwave on top of the counter. It’s not like I left it on the floor or coffee table or anything.
And today, we didn’t go to the adoption event because he was such an asshole yesterday. He barked his head off the entire time and pulled all over the place on his leash. Frays my nerves.
And he’s already not allowed to roam the house when I’m not home (even for a minute) because he likes to rip up walls and door and window frames and such. And now, he’s not allowed to sleep on the bed anymore on account of he can’t seem to resist getting into something the second nobody’s watching. And he’s not even a puppy, by the way. He’s like nine.
And he’s also not allowed to go on fun outings with the rest of us for the same reason I kept him home from the adoption event. He pulls and barks and acts like an asshole and I can’t handle three dogs when one is so badly-behaved. He gets walks on his own where I work on teaching him to heel, but he’s an idiot and doesn’t seem to get it.
Oh, and I was stupid and left the dog treats on the counter, pushed back. Most dogs can’t get it there. But he ate all his little brother’s milk bones and all of the training treats, too. So we’re out of treats because Piggy McJerkface thought he’d help himself.
I guess I must have let myself get spoiled by having non-infuriating foster dogs for a minute. Terrible dogs need homes too… right?
And as a disclaimer… I’ve only had him like a week, so the fact that he’s so, so not even close to remotely trained in any way is not my doing.
What was she doing exactly? Using the elevator as a toy to entertain the kid?
Yes. And using the kid to deliberately block the door and not let anyone else on. Standing next to me waiting was a guy with a load of food for skyway level restaurant. Neither of us were going to make it up the escalator.
Oh for…
I’m sorry, that’s not just a complaint offense, that one is good for cattleprodding.
We were not allowed to carry tasers…