I’ll send Pandora, who does not make the Poo of Doom and who does need a job. She’s very active and would be a great barn cat.
I did try on some tankinis - manufacturers seem to think if you have a big belly, you also have huge boobs. The ones I tried that were comfortable over the middle left my topside gaping horrendously. That’s why I tried a few maternity suits. I wanted something to detract from the kidneys from hell, not emphasize them, which is what the maternity suits did. This is not me, but it’s what PKD belly looks like. I wore my friggin expensive suit last night and I do like it quite a bit, I just still can’t get over the cost.
What about hairballs? I put vaseline on her leg every night and that has cut down on it, but we still get puke every 2? weeks or so. Is this just something one has to deal with if the cat is inside only? This is my first inside only cat.
I had no idea. My God.
He picked up a large rock and held it over his head. “Say one more word motherfucker!”
I responded “ONE MORE WORD MOTHERFUCKER, ONE MORE WORD MOTHERFUCKER, I SAID ONE MORE WORD MOTHERFUCKER. YOU GONNA HIT ME WITH THAT ROCK OR KEEP QUEEFING CHECKS OUT YOUR MOUTH THAT YOU CAN’T CASH? ONE MORE WORD MOTHERFUCKER”
Get her a Kindle, and a rider on her library card that she’s only allowed to check out e-books?
You know, if you’re going to post out-of-context passages from War and Peace, you could at least attribute them to Tolstoy…
We have a kindle. That’s a perfect solution. Thank you!
I was going to let this one slide, but with what I just found out, I’ve changed my mind.
Just about a week ago, I decided to stop tempting fate with kaylasmom’s safety*, and signed her up with a Life Alert system. On Wednesday, the package came with the base station, the call button pendant, and the contract paperwork with a return envelope. We set the system up and got everything activated; then I was instructed to sign the contract, put it into the envelope, and present it to the UPS driver on Friday.
Friday came, and I had not heard any knocks on the door by the time it was necessary for me to go to bed. At 8:30 p.m., however, when I left to go to work, I found a slip from UPS tucked under my doormat. There was nothing written on the slip, but on the back side of it, there was a place for the driver to have written details of an attempt to make a pickup, and on the front side, there was a smallish sticker with a tracking number and (in very small print) the address to which the envelope was intended to be delivered. I thought to myself, I must have slept through the driver’s knock. No matter, I’ll just put this label on the envelope and bring it in to the local UPS store in the morning.
Come the next morning, I did just that, only to find that the clerk at the store had no idea what to do with the parcel. He suggested I call UPS and ask them about it, so I pulled out my cell phone and did so. The CSR asked me to describe the barcode on the label, and I told her that there wasn’t one, but I could read her the tracking number. She looked up the tracking number, and told me that the package had been picked up the previous day.
Huh?
Then, the light struck me: our mailboxes are actually quite small, so every time the letter carrier has a braille magazine to deliver (usually Rolling Stone), she places it next to the front door.
Great. So on Monday, the folks at Life Alert are going to be receiving a braille copy of Rolling Stone. :smack: I went home, called UPS from the landline, explained what had happened, and asked for the parcel to be turned around (not likely, since it was only going across town to Encino), and the real parcel picked up. I was told that nothing could be done on Saturday, but I would get a call on Monday, letting me know how this was going to be corrected. Come Monday, I got a call from the local UPS dispatcher, who told me that Life Alert needed to issue a new call tag, and the envelope would probably be picked up on Tuesday.
Well, I had a doctor appointment first thing on Tuesday morning, so I took the return envelope, and placed it in the decorative ironwork of our screen door, so the driver could take it if I hadn’t returned. When I got home shortly after ten, the envelope was still there, so I waited. At about three p.m. I got tired of waiting, so I called Life Alert to see if they could provide me with the tracking number of the new call tag. Which they could.
Off to track the call tag at UPS dot com. What’s this? The driver reported making an attempt to deliver the call tag at 11:25? Really, now? I’ve been in this chair in the front room of the apartment since 10:30, and there hasn’t been a knock at the door. And there hasn’t been any attempt to take the parcel that’s still out there on my screen door. Oh, but the website says that a second attempt will be made tomorrow.
The fuck it will. I called UPS, asked to speak with a supervisor, and explained that had happened, including that the driver had made a false report of an attempted pick-up, and very firmly and non-negotiably “requested” that this issue be resolved TODAY. I was promised action and a phone call within the hour.
Which will have elapsed in about fifteen minutes from now.
*(in the past couple of years she has, while I was a work, fallen and broken a hip and a shoulder)
Close! It was Plath :o
I had my baby. I lost a lot of weight.
My mother in law decided this was a challenge. I went down to an US 8-10. She went to a 4.
I have acquired an almost sister in law who is a competitive cyclist.
Now this is a challenge, and I’ve been stopped dead at the same weight for three weeks.
Who gives a shit what they do? Do what’s healthy for YOU. If your body is a healthy weight at 8/10, listen to it.
Problem is, it is healthier.
I’m short as fuck, so a big dinner knocks me out of the bmi park. Not a place I want to be. I’ve got insulin dependent diabetics on both sides of my family and had gestational diabetes- which leaves me a 45% higher chance of developing type 2 the rest of my life.
So it’s better for me. And a pissing match/dick measuring contest.
Clinical depression just really, really sucks. Combine that with adult ADD and a lot of weird anxieties, and life can be just shit.
I’m lucky I have good friends for a lot of this, and a good doctor helping, but seriously, this is no place and no one I want to be.
My niece is getting married. She and her fiance picked out a venue, but my mother said that if they didn’t get married in a Catholic church, she wouldn’t attend. So they’re getting married in a church.
Good for you, Mom. Your youngest daughter got married in a church. Ooops, she’s divorced. Your son got married in church. Ooooops again - divorced. I eloped and said my vows in front of a notary - ooooops - married 31 years and counting. So, yeah, that church thing is sooooooooo important. :rolleyes:
I really have no dog in this fight - I’ll attend the wedding and I’ve already got their present. I may even attend the shower, much as I hate showers. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m pissed at my mother for her little temper tantrum and at my sister and niece for caving in.
Whatever. Just had to get that out of my system.
When we say that my grandmother is in better health than either of her two daughters, people who don’t know them sometimes think it’s a joke; others ask for clarification.
Current outlook for 101yo grandma: “based on her analysis, she could be 85 or 125. She’s generally crumbling, but nothing that’s a big diagnosis - no diabetes, BP ok, no cancer, liver profile ok… she’s hanging from a thread, but that thread is stuck to her heart and her ECG is better than mine.”
My 73yo mother has been feeling poorly(-er than usual) for over a month; on Monday my brother finally convinced her to go see her doctor; yesterday the doctor sent her to the ER; she had some tests yesterday, some today, more to come…
In Spain radiologists and radio techs can’t diagnose. Their written reports must contain a description of what they see, but nothing else. No opinions. Verbal reports aren’t supposed to exist but, when the patient is the widow of one of the hospital’s Founding Members and mother in law of a local doctor, you do get a verbal report. “There’s two possibilities: that she’s got metastatic liver cancer and that I’m wrong.” Her diverticule is also extremely inflamed and infected, which is probably the direct cause of the specific troubles she’d been having (and no surprise as she dropped any attempts at eating healthy as soon as she was put on insuline six months ago), but well, compared with that nonexisting verbal report pchsa…
What sucks more - “morning” sickness, or not being able[1] to tell people why I’m suffering for another 5 weeks. Bah.
[1] Society’s guidelines, because god forbid we women get any support from friends and family if we’re unfortunate enough to miscarry before 12 weeks. Keep that news to yourself woman!
Spot the stealth-brag!
“Morning” sickness can’t tell time. Sorry/congratulations, Cinnamon Imp!
Good news: the migraine is back to a dull thud, instead of the “Mommy Wants to Cry and Barf, but Either Option Would Hurt Too Much” from yesterday.
More good news: caught the mouse yesterday. (Hopefully, “the” mouse, not “one of.”)
Bad news: Neither of the two adults nor the two big kids in the house (ages 14 and 16) bothered getting the fresh mouse from the trap yesterday. They left it for barely-functional me this morning. The smell of day-old dead mouse is not what I’d recommend for someone with a migraine hangover!
I’ll be glad when Boy 2.0 is back from his school trip. Sure, he can be a giant PITA, but he gets things done, dadgummit!
(At least the dishes finally got done yesterday… sort of. I cannot convince Long-Term Guest, nor her daughter, that the dishwasher must be loaded in such a way that water actually hits the dirty surface of the dishes!)
Yikes, that’s got to be scary stuff to hear (or NOT hear :rolleyes:). Hoping for the best for you and your loved ones. And give your granny a Doper hug, from me.
Ugh. They really need to go. Isn’t the mom looking for work? Is she remotely employable if she can’t even load a home kitchen dishwasher? I mean, seriously.
Congratulations, Cinnamon Imp! Hope the morning sickness leaves you soon so you can just glow and enjoy!