You really ought to consider subscribing instead to the Sacramento Cee or even the Sacramento Dee.
At least you knew where they were. My mother has been known to phone me to help her look for her glasses. I was several hundred km away but apparently I’m better at walking her through looking for them than she herself is; among other things, when I ask her to look in a specific place and she exclaims “impossible!” I shoot back “impossible the split in my ass, go look”. They tend to be in a place she’s just deemed “impossible!”
What peeves me is food bloggers that have like 8 or 10 lsrge food porn shots, a couple of babbling stream of brainlessness crap so you have to spend time scrolling down to see the recipe, just to discover they decided to swap out ingredients to use the so called super foods…if I want beef bourguinon, i want it to approximate Julia Childs recipe and actually have beef in it, not portobello chunks, or ice cream or candy not based entirely on coconut products…and I am so damned of kale, paleo, whole 30 and vegan conversions.
Chemo brain. Constant fatigue, I freaking fell asleep while mrAru and were getting jiggy. And the freaking nausea, though I would have a torrid affair with Zofran if it were alive…
There’s a plus in there. Getting jiggy is always good;)!!
Oh god, don’t get me started with food blogs. I love a good story too, but if I’m reading your food blog, it’s because I’m looking for a specific RECIPE, not a dissertation about your great Aunt Bessie’s culinary techniques involving a once-maligned green that’s now all the clean eating rage. RECIPE, people. RECIPE. There is still a place for cookbooks in this world.
And inevitably all recipe sites are loaded with pop-up and bullshit.
I have a homicidal hatred of people who, being the first in line for a left-turn arrow that lasts a whopping three seconds at a 3-way intersection that takes about four minutes to cycle, decide to take a nap when the arrow FINALLY turns green. By the time you hit the horn and they finally move, the arrow is going red. So, THEY are the only ones who make it through, and I have to wait another four minutes.
I should be allowed to kill them. I think it only fair :mad:
Rain.
I’m not one whose moods go up and down with the weather, but damn, we DC-area folks have had a lot of rain lately, including a freakin’ deluge from Saturday afternoon until late last night.
I’ve had it with this motherfucking rain.
Well, that’s what I had planned on doing. I’ve had their black bean and corn salsa many times and it’s fabulous. My daughter thinks the cashier messed up, as she also swears I had the BB&C jar in my hand.
I tried pawning the bacon salsa on my brother in law last night. Nope.
Both of my nephews are weenies and don’t like any salsa (too spicy!)
So it’s getting dumped.
Not going to vaguebook this shit, as the involved parties are there but
My teeth are fucked up. Thanks, bullemia. Thank you, uncle, who used to like to tell me at fourteen that I was ‘soooo fat’ that I would die before I was 18. He’s a cardiologist whose wife’s anorexia/bullemia has nearly killed her and whose heart is about 60% dead tissue. He’s recently taken it upon himself to start throwing out things that are mine when visiting my mother’s house. And thank you, grandma, who liked to talk to him as well and repeat with a huge grin ‘Uncle says you’re soooo fat you’re going to die!’. I was a size 10. But I suppose everything looks like a nail when you’re a hammer or a bitch.
Thank you also, grandma, for that time you went to parents’ night at school and found out that my English teacher was also the track coach. And then you came home and proudly told me that you’d demanded she draft me into the cross country team to ‘run that fat ass off’ me. In those words.
And thank you, Mom, for all those times when you decided that you couldn’t be bothered with life and played ‘everyone get in the car, because I’m driving you off the bridge’. And when I didn’t want to play that game at 17, you knocked me down, sat on my back and punched me in the head while screaming that I was killing you.
Tl;dr - grandma was always a bitch, even before the dementia. My mother continues to be one.
I applied for a friggin’ waitress job, and this was one of the Qs:
“I will work hard to reach my goal of getting to the top levels of a major company”
Bit presumptuous, no?
I wouldn’t convict you. This city is full of drivers who have had no training and haven’t got a clue what they’re doing - as you can imagine, they have a hard time with left turns. Like, they go straight when they are in the far left lane of a two-lane left turn. :eek: (My husband and I have both seen this multiple times now.) They are also very fond of getting into the intersection like you are SUPPOSED to do to make your left turn, then backing up once the light turns yellow instead of just freaking GOING!!!
It’s a ridiculous question (like, really ridiculous), but it’s one of those questions where you just lie the way they expect you to, I guess.
My mini-dick neighbours continue their unbroken stream of mini-dickness (and their tenant is getting in on the mini-dick action, too!). We got our streets cleaned today - this is critical in Lethbridge, because we get so much gravel on the streets in winter. My neighbours pulled their two vehicles off the street and parked in their driveway so the section of street in front of their house got nicely cleaned. Their tenant (who parks in front of our house, in spite of my neighbours having room for four vehicles on their front driveway as well as a two-car garage), did not move her car; instead she just left it in front of our house, so half the street in front of our house did not get cleaned. Dicks.
Time to get out there with a push broom when they’re not home and sweep it right in front of their driveway.
I’m continuing to have a Moby Dick-esque battle with a big spider. It’s now a brutal fight to the death - two lifeforms enter, one lifeform leaves.
Well, the real answer is “Strongly Agree!”(But this sure as hell ain’t a major company, so you’re really asking if I’m willing to quit to follow my dreams…)
I agree that it’s really a test of whether you can fake it (crucial for any service job).
I love this. I’ve found a sense of humor (and the absurd) is the best defense against pan-generational toxins.
So the client accepted my bid (YAY!), so now why does it take two months to start on the project?
If we can’t meet your deadline after you hold up the start…
What’s buggin’ me? My eff-ing neck. It’s been painful for at least 10 days. I had a spasm awhile ago that sent fire down my spine. I immediately puked. So…getting ready to go to the Doctor. I hate pain.
That would be my company. 
In my case, we have to keep sending proposed designs to the customer for approval. Did I mention that this customer’s system requirements for this order are in violation of the Laws of Thermodynamics, and that they’re loudly insisting that it has always worked this way, even though they have no backup (data reports, etc)? Fun stuff. And yes, we recognize that the deadline is on its way out the window at this point.