Mom’s dying. You don’t have a job. You live with her and our father rent free. Instead of sending me nasty emails whining that I don’t respect you go make yourself useful. Tell me who has power of attorney. Let me know what the doctor says. Make calls to her friends and our family. Take care of dad. He’s about to lose his wife of 45 years and he’s distraught.
In short grow the fuck up. You are 37. I have a job and two children. I do not have the time or the energy to do everything and deal with your immaturity as well. It is not fair to demand that I and I alone take care of everything while you throw temper tantrums.
I realize this is a small thing, but a splinter from the work cabinet broke off under my index fingernail and it hurts like a bitch. I can’t reach it to dig it out, so a coworker told me to wrap it in fatback and it’ll draw it out. So I’m sitting here with a piece of bacon wrapped around my finger, trying not to yell. Oh, and I’m a vegetarian.
Seriously considering calling my GP tomorrow if I can’t get it out tonight. Pretty sure that would be the lamest doctor’s visit ever, but I can’t believe how much it hurts.
At least you’re not like me, and having pregnancy nausea that seems to be triggered by (among other things) the smell of bacon. Even Morningstar Farms veggie bacon, which I normally love, sends me running for the bathroom.
Stupid fucking bitch. You tailgate me through the neighborhood (speed limit 25, don’t need a ticket), then when I stop at the STOP sign, you wave your arms at me like I shouldn’t have stopped, because nobody is coming from the other two directions. Apparently you believe that the sign means ‘stop only when you feel like it’.
Then you did the same thing at the next stop sign, at which point I gave you the finger and you returned the favor, shaking your head and laughing like I’m some kind of idiot. Luckily for you, my wife was with me, as I would normally have stopped the car and had a discussion with your moronic ass. Fucking cunt.
Jesus Christ on a cracker alma mater, I gave $35 to the alumni association three years ago, none since, and now you think that maybe I might pop for $250? Then when I say I am not in the financial position not to give anything at this point (being unemployed but I don’t mention that), you suggest that the school isn’t looking for only big donations so maybe I would consider giving *just *$166 in honor of the university’s 166 year anniversary?? Fuck you!
I hate moving. I’m helping Flutewiz move. Leroy Jethro Tull (the cat) has earned the nickname SpeedBump. He’s not happy about the uproar in his happy home and uses his body to stop it whenever possible.
Thanks for the support, guys. I really appreciate it.
I’m going to Washington DC this weekend to celebrate my 10 year relationship anniversary with my husband as well as the successful defense of his Ph.D. dissertation. We really need this right now.
Bill fried some up on Sunday. I’m sure they are very tasty for people who like that sort of thing. I need a dog. I tried to feed them to the cats and just got snooty looks. Bill also tries to feed me okra. The mouth feel is just wrong for me.
Grumbles about the stemside down thing. Its OK. They way I was taught to ripen tomatos was to put each one in a brown paper bag, put the bags in a cardboard box and put it in the back of a cool closet (its summer here, I’m in the desert and we practice death by AC), so I do.
Every week, I pull the box out and open every bag and if I see pink on the skin, I put that one on the window sill to ripen. Then I rebag the rest and shove the box back into the closet. Until the weekend that I forget…then I will forget the next weekend because my habit was broken. The last step is to smell something funny, go into the guest room and open the closet, look at the box in horror, toss the box and then scrub the closet out, followed by mopping the floor and wiping the walls down. Its a tradition, or something.
I was all jealous about the music until I saw that moving was happening. Moving just sucks. I do like the nickname
While you’re packing your bag for the hospital, be sure to throw in a good handful of snacks. The second best thing about giving birth is that all of a sudden, your digestive system is yours again! (Besides, you’ll be hungry after labor.)
Looking for a movie today I ran into the following line:
“…telenovela star Génesis Rodríguez, currently daughter of José Luis Rodríguez ‘El Puma’…”
Bloody hell, I realize these morons are used to writing “currently wife of” (or husband, they’re equal opportunity morons) about people who’ve been married for 40+ years, but “currently daughter”? Is El Puma suddenly going to get hit with the news that his youngest daughter is actually someone else’s?
My knee has turned scumbag. It would wear the little scumbag hat, but there’s no place to put it.
I know what the problem is and what it’s from. My knee is fucked up thanks to an old Navy injury; the connective tissue was damaged such that my patella no longer moves the way that it should. When I use my knee a lot, like when I ride my bike, it flares up. Usually, a few days of ibuprofen, rest, and heat work. But not this time. I’m now on Mobic, which works well but takes forever. Icing after riding and bracing it should help, as well. But since I know what I’m supposed to do, it’s not even worth seeing a doctor. I just have to ride this out (no pun intended).
This is what happens when I try to get into shape so I don’t have joint pain. :mad:
I’ve been hitting the gym myself because I know my knees are just waiting to give out (both my parents have issues and my knees have creaked since I was a tween).
standard reminder that swimming is easier on the joints, if you have access
I gotta make a cranky call to the city today. (Oh lordy - I’m turning into one of Those People, aren’t I? The ones who write a letter to the editor every week?) I’ve been hitting congestion riiiiiiiiiight when I’m a block away from work, for no discernible reason: no accident, no power outage to the lights, etc. But traffic just creeeeeps.
Sat long enough today to stare at the lights. Somebody fucked with the timing. It’s a complicated intersestion - a light right after a light, because we’re crossing a highway so there are separate lights for each side of the service road - and now we all sit at a red light, staring longingly at the green left turn arrow up ahead … that turns red right when our light turns green so we can get to it.
Oh, hell, that makes no sense, does it?
TLDR: the city screwed up the light timing at a heavily trafficed and complex intersection I use a couple of times a day. Now little ol’ me wants to try to convince them to change it back.
I do swim, not much though because the free swim times aren’t very good for me and I can’t exactly leave a swimming mad little boy at home so I end up trailing him around and he’s still working on getting better (lessons this month, which means I can gym while he’s in lessons yay!)
I miss college, I could get up in the morning and go for a nice swim before class. It was very quiet at the school pool.
