Thank you everyone for the kind words. Fred isn’t going to leave me today or next week. I know that he’s old but I will still blame myself for feeding him bread instead of grocery store catfood…which is also mostly corn. Humpf.
My AC went out on Saturday, so I took the day off work to deal with it. Fred can’t jump. Or, I thought he couldn’t jump because when he wants to be on his chair, he sits next to it an yammers at me. We went outside to sit under the tree, Fred in the playpen and me reading.
Steve (alpha feral) showed up to eat and Fred managed to not only climb out of his playpen, he snarled and chased Steve off the deck and ran half way down the driveway. Now Fred is sleeping, totally worn out. Steve has had his dinner which included some gooshy food.
Oh, BTW, look for gas prices to go up in December. Is it insider trading when everyone in the oil business knows that some contracts will be expering in December?
Once it’s published in a public forum, it isn’t insider trading. So you just de-criminalized it for everyone. Somebody somewhere will owe you dinner at stock trading time…
TheKid squawked at me a few weeks ago when I did not get her laundry out of the dryer and I had the nerve to request she was dishes, as all I do all day is sit my ass on the couch. At least once a week she asks that I drive her to/ pick her up from school. My mom calls daily, stops by at least 3x/week, since I’m “not busy”. I have exclaimed / bitched more than a few times that I have to then work later to “make back” time. Just because I’m not behind a desk does not mean I’m not working, dammit! Getting this through my mom’s head is much more difficult as she does not grasp the fact that I can do everything on my laptop - no paper files, mail is efiled, voip for phones… gah.
Note that that is not a W in Wells, it is the letter V twice. Also that is the number 0 not the letter O, and a capitol I in the middle of the word? They also left off one l in VVels.
Sheesh, can’t we at least get a phisher that can put a bit of effort into his emails? You know at least spoof the return address or something?
[Tom Smith]Let’s find a villain with professional pride[/TS]
ETA: the font here doesn’t show the difference between a W and VV very well, as well as the I in 0nIine, but it is obvious in my email program
No problem! Didn’t want to come across as rantshitting, but thought you might be interested.
[QUOTE=eclectic wench]
Just to clarify, because I was so busy yelling at the monitor that I think I wasn’t clear: I’m not annoyed about adults talking to babies like they’re, well, talking to babies. All that stuff - limited vocabulary, overdone intonation, repetition - we did that, automatically; I think it’s built in. I was bitching about stuff like saying ‘boppy’ for ‘bottle’ or ‘doggie’ for ‘dog’.
[/QUOTE]
Actually, although admittedly somewhat bizarrely, that stuff turns out to fall in the “helpful for language acquisition” category too, like the other features of baby talk. In particular, the sort-of-diminutive “-ie” or “-y” ending on words like “doggie”, “horsie”, “kitty” and so on apparently acts as a sort of toddler version of a grammatical marker that helps them intuitively grasp the concept of grammatical inflection by phonological modification of words, and yes, that is fucking weird.
In fact, guess what common word is a baby-talk diminutive that has now become assimilated into standard English?.. the word “baby” itself, that’s what! :eek: The original form was “babe” from “baban” but the more kid-friendly form with the “-y” ending quickly took over. It’s everywhere I tells ya, EVERYWHERE!!
I was between projects (self-employed-speak for “unemployed”). Got a phone call from an agent. I’m in my bedroom, with the door closed. Mom barges in without knocking (we were already having issues re. knocking) and starts asking “a feminine question” (which I already hate on principle) about whether she should wear the green or the blue earrings with that skirt, and is the skirt baggy in the ass? I’ve turned so she can see the phone, I’ve pointed to the phone, I’m speaking in Eeeeeeen-glish!, a language she does not understand, she cuts herself with “oh I should not interrupt you, but do you think the skirt is baggy on the back?”, I shove her out and close the door, she barges back in, I ask the agent to excuse me for a minute, I’ll call him back (international rates, yeehaw), close the phone, proceed to rip Mom a few new holes and
she’s still saying “I know, I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have interrupted, but do you think this skirt is baggy? Does it make my butt look bad?” “MOM, BEING SIXTY NINE MAKES YOUR BUTT LOOK BAD AND GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I KILL YOU!”
When we explained it to Littlebro later, he stared at Mom and told me “the day you finally kill her, I’ll help you hide the body.”
Somebody hit a dog belonging to a homeless man at the park we train at on Monday nights. It’s a semi busy street and the parking lot is small so it didn’t take many steps for the dog to be in the way of a car going at least 40 mph.
Not 20 minutes later, in comes a smaller SUV of sorts, backs into a slot next to the street and out pops a 5? year old girl. Alone. To go play on the playground stuff on the other side of the tennis courts, except she apparently had a lot of questions or something to ask whoever was in the car because she ran back and forth several times. Never did see any concern from whoever was in the car about the busy street, the sketchy looking homeless about 7-8 parking stalls down (they have actually been OK, other than not watching their dogs) or the verbally abusive drunk on the other side of the tennis courts. Cute kid - too bad no one seems to care about her.
Verizon persists in sending me these idiotic emails suggesting I upgrade. They piss me off for 2 reasons:
The subject line is always “Requested Information from Verizon Wireless.” I didn’t request jack shit, and I have enough brain cells remaining to remember that I didn’t.
The actual email starts “Dear (Full Name)”. No, I’m not replacing my name for privacy reasons, they actually put (Full Name) in there. If you are so fucking incompetent that you can’t pull my name from your database of current customers, you are not giving me much incentive to stay with you as a current customer.
Mom: No, I cannot “just look up” which room of the hospital your friend is in. I can find her brother, who could tell you, but my magical internet doesn’t allow me super anti-HIPAA powers. No, I cannot just browse caringbridge, either. Why not? They don’t let you.
Car: You suck. It’s like when Dad was alive - you’d act like shit, until he got behind the wheel and then you were freakin’ dandy. My “guy” confirmed there was something wrong, didn’t say what, just that it was more than he could handle in his home garage. So I took you to a real garage… and you acted just fine. WTF? I know the second I get behind the wheel, you’re going to get all spazzy on me again. Gah. I wish I could afford to replace you, but I can’t.
I’m just in a cranky mood today. Mayme Cat, who trips just walking across the floor, has decided she CAN stand on the back of my kitchen chair. No, no she can’t. I now have the scratches on my back and neck to prove it. I wish I wasn’t at the kitchen table working, but the damn wireless is acting up so I had to hook up to the modem. It speeds along… then slows down to snail-on-valium speed… then half speed… all enough to kick me out of NetMotion. Gah.
It’s a glorious 1993 Olds Cutlass Sierra. My hoopty. It feels like it would be the fuel filter or carburetor - when I would accelerate it would lurch and want to stall, I called it as ‘being airy’ if that makes sense. It chugs. Now, both of those are relatively easy fixes (although the fuel filter is a pain to replace).
Well, dammit. Now I’m too interested to be pissed off. I’ve been rantjacked.
How about Italian? In Italian, people tend to use a whole lot of diminutives when talking to babies as well, but the thing is that Italian diminutives actively make words harder to say. Like, ‘button’ is ‘bottone’, but the diminutive is ‘bottoncino’ - an adult speaking to a baby might say ‘Dov’é il bottoncino?’ for ‘Where’s the button?’ and there’s no way a baby can make a decent stab at ‘bottoncino’ (unlike ‘doggie’ or whatever). Does that fulfil the same function anyway?
Ya learn something hew every day! I’ve just learned that wait staff, in addition to serving food and the duties that come with it, are supposed to know how far your 18 month old can reach so they don’t put anything within the childs’ grasp. rolleyes When I was a waitress I knew about as much about kids as I knew about nuclear fusion.
The problem is that his body will be full of a powerful anesthetic agent that WILL affect anything that eats him. Might not be a good idea … sorry. That’s one of the reasons it’s so expensive and difficult to dispose of euthanized horses. They have to be buried deeply, composted, or cremated, lest they be consumed by predators
While we’re at it, maybe parents should teach their kids to A. Not drive their bikes on the sidewalk in a residential area, and B. If they do drive their bikes on the sidewalk in a residential area, to walk their bikes across the roads instead of driving them full speed across the road in a crosswalk. I was driving the speed limit and attentively, so I could stop in time and not run right over your daughter; not all the assholes in this neighbourhood do the same.
She now has a new fuel pump and filter, runs fabulous. I feel kind of guilty - I kind of hoped she was not repairable. I’m almost 43 years old. I have never owned a car that was less than 10 years old. My car is rusted, the bumper hangs crooked due to being hit a few years ago. She’s just ugly. But she works well, and I know I should be grateful that I have a car. I know I will never be able to afford a new car, not as long as I remain a government worker or as long as TheKid resides under my roof.
