I can’t fucking believe it, but I’ve apparently lost my daughter’s social security card and birth certificate for the second time in three years. I was carrying them around for a while because she was trying for her drivers license, and now…they’re just gone. They can only be in her car or in the house but I’ve looked everywhere I can fucking think of and I’m about ready to cry. I wouldn’t have thrown them away! I’m sure they’re in a Very Special Place. Fuck!
At work, I have been given a simple task…order boxes from storage in small batches twice a week until they are all here. Got it. So every time Dr. Important walks by my desk, he says, “You’re ordering those boxes, right?” Yes, motherfucker, if you didn’t think I could handle the job why’d you ask me to do it? (Maybe he heard about me losing my daughter’s stuff). Also, Dr. Important has never heard me speak a full sentence because he interrupts me every time I open my mouth. I know that he is so smart that nothing I say could possibly be of any use to him, but I want very much to punch him in the eye.
My mother’s flat is a 10th floor. 11th if you’re American. So how come we can, not just understand the lyrics in the music one of the coaches in the ground-floor gym uses, we can understand him yelling over the music? If I go down there and beat him up with one of his own static bycicles, will I be able to claim temporary insanity caused by butchered pump-it-up versions of some of my favorite songs?
I’ve had issues with the creatures before. A few months ago, while trying to go to sleep, I started hearing scratching and thumping noises just beyond the wall next to my head. This wall has no adjoining townhomes and has a shaded walkway on its other side. After a week or so of those noises, plus some “chattering”, I tell the complex, because it sounds like the squirrels are not just on the outside of my home, but somehow inside the wall instead. They put in a work order to send someone over, a few days pass, and a man comes to take care of things (presumably by walling off whatever entrance they were using. Months pass, and the distractions subside and I can sleep in peace.
The night after I tell my apartment complex that I’m riding out my lease (see this thread for details), I guess the squirrels a) got wind of the news, and b) decided to throw a huge party to celebrate, because with all the noise they were making, it sounded like they were having a rodent orgy in there. The worst part is, it sounds like they are continually clawing at a particular spot in the wall, so I keep having fears that I’m going to awake to a bedroom full of squirrels at some point in the near future.
Due to strange and messed up happenings, my boyfriend had to stay at the office all night. (But this is mini rants, I will save THAT story for regular sized rants). I thus had to pick him up this morning, with my five year old in tow, before I started work.
Got a “coffee” (the new, improved, super marketed one) from McD’s on the way… disrupting my routine.
This super new improved McDonalds coffee…
Bitter.
As bitter as an-ex wife forced to make payments on snowmobiles she never wanted.
As bitter as and oldest sister in a frilly bridesmade dress watching the best guy buddy marry her bratty sister.
As bitter as … ?
As bitter as spraying down an ugly vase of ugly ornamental bamboo gifted from someone you can’t stand on an occasion you’d rather forget with this stuff to keep the cats from eating/barfing it all up, and then chewing a hangnail, after *promising *yourself you’d remember not to chew a hangnail.
Dear Chicago city pedestrians; the solid red hand across the street on the sign on the big yellow pole means DON’T FUCKING WALK NOW! IT’S TIME FOR THE FUCKING CARS TO GO!
Dear Chicago city drivers; The white-light-walking-man and the blinking red hand on the sign on the big yellow pole means PEOPLE ARE WALKING, DON’T DRIVE INTO THE FUCKING INTERSECTION IF THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THE FUCKING INTERSECTION!
This one time? In Chicago? I was driving and trying to turn right onto Michigan Ave. As per usual, my light turned green, but it takes a bit for the pedestrians to clear out of the crosswalk. The guy behind me laaaaaays on his horn trying to get me to move.
What he couldn’t see - as he was merely in a Benz, I was in a Pacifica - is that there was *a pregnant lady pushing a stroller *walking in front of me.
I kinda had to WAIT for her to clear the crosswalk, ok, jerkface? Sure, she should’ve been paying attention and the mistake was hers, but I don’t think she and her baby in the stroller should die for it. :eek:
It’s an all out war in Chicago between the pedestrians and the drivers, near as I can tell.
I woke up on Friday with a horrible agonizing pain in the back of my right shoulder. I figured I slept on it wrong and the pain would go away. By Friday evening, the pain was shooting into my upper arm to my elbow, so I went to urgent care. The Nurse Practitioner gave me an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. Saturday morning, I have numbness in my fingers–that can’t be good. Back to urgent care and the doctor takes xrays of my shoulder and diagnoses bursitis, which, as a research geek I look up as soon as I get home. None of the symptoms match, so I get an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon for Tuesday, by which time I’m in serious pain. Fortunately the doc at urgent care gave me percocet.
The ortho asks me a few questions, then asks me to touch my chin to my chest, which hurts like hell. And he says, “and so know we know the problem is with your neck.” It only hurts when I move my neck–I can practically flap my arms like a bird with no pain. It’s my fucking neck, stupid urgent care doctor! The ortho figured that out in 3 seconds! So, I have a cervical herniated disc for which I wear a cervical collar, and get plenty of rest, and more percocet, and freakin’ prednisone which makes me hungry, which sucks because now I’ve gone from exercising every day to not exercising at all until probably next week. And then I see the ortho again.
Shit. I’ve got numb fingers and a loss of strength in my hand and wrist which are apparently classic signs of herniated disc and not anything like bursitis! Damn urgent care. I’ll have to find a new one now, with, I don’t know, competent doctors.
Y’know, you really feel that way sometimes. Like the war between cabbies and bike messengers, one day, there will be blood.
As an adjunct to my earlier mini-rant.
Dear Chicago Drivers. clears throat YOUR HORN WILL NOT MAKE PEOPLE MOVE FASTER! THEY KNOW THEY’RE STOPPED IN LINE ALREADY, JUST LIKE THE 20 OTHER PEOPLE IN THE SAME LINE, JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE IN A FUCKING BMW DOES NOT MEAN YOU NEED TO BE ANY WHERE FASTER THAN US FORD DRIVERS. This goes double for you cabbies, I don’t care what worked in the dusty part of whatever 3rd world country you’re from, honking your horn in a traffic jam DOES NOTHING.
Also;
Dear Harley assholes; LOUD PIPES ARE JUST LOUD. I get you want a little rumble, I get it sounds kinda cool with that going on, but for the love of dog, if it hurts my ears to hear you slowly roll away from a fucking stop light, I should be able to hit you with my car (not really, but dammit, it makes me mad).
Ahhh… I can laugh about this now but at the time it made me wanna thrash thrash thrash!
So, I lived right off Sheridan when I was in Chicago. Unfortunately, my street was one-way east bound, so it was a hot spot in rush hour for people heading to Lakeshore Drive.
One morning at 7:00AM I was awoken to a cabbie right outside my window just wailing on his horn. His obstacle? The trash truck ahead of him.
Ok, assault inducing for two reasons:
One, whattya gonna do? The trash guy has got to do his job. Honking at him changes nothing. The guy loading the cans in the compactor just stared at this cabbie like, “Youz gotta be FUCK-in kiddin’ me, here.”
Second, the cabbie had room to pass.
Yep. He had *enough room *to go around the trash truck.
But, nah. I think I’ll just honkhonkhonkhooooooooooooooooooooooooonk. That’ll do it!
Bitch, bitch, bitch, that’s all you people do in these threads.
I love America.
I was walking past a waiting area in the hospital where I work and something made me look up at the TV that’s always tuned in to CNN Headline News. The screen was showing two official-looking personnel hauling away a sausage-shaped form wrapped in a sheet. The graphic at the bottom of the screen read, “Is It Stacy?”. A bored female voice was saying:
“…no head, no arms…just a torso.”
You don’t get great news stories like that in frigging Wales, let me tell you.
If you find him, let me know and I’ll hold him down for you while you butcher him. Especially that bastard who thinks that making me type part of a word in another program is a swell idea.
I’d like to take a moment to invite representatives of the Massachusetts Bank Of America to come on down and collect their prize.
So we moved out to Seattle about 8 months ago. Moved house, belongings, wife and cats. As part of getting established in WA, we opened a bank account here (having discovered that BofA is not one big bank, but a bunch of non-interacting computer systems).
Moved most of the money from the MA bank branch to the WA bank branch. Tried to close the MA account. Was told it would take two-three weeks. OK. Went home.
I get an email alert two days later that the MA bank has taken out the monthly fee because we now have less than $10,000 in the account. Bastards! :dubious:
But it is now a month later… the fucking account is still not closed and the cunctating bank has taken out another fucking monthly fee.
/this is my first rant here
//I’ll do better next time
