I made it very clear to the poor student worker calling me from the alumni association that I, too, was a poor worker who had no extra cash to throw back at my university. I was extremely nice about it, but also extremely clear about my financial situation. Haven’t heard back from them since.
I have a file on my computer I can’t delete. It’s making me irritable. Every time I try to get rid of it, a little box pops up and says “This folder contains items whose names are too long for the Recycle Bin.”
I’m not trying to delete Apu Nahasapeemapetilan, I’m just trying to get rid of an mp3 that doesn’t work.
Spaz, rename the offender then give it two in the hat.
Or hold down the Shift key and then press Delete, to bypass the Recycle Bin.
:smack::smack::smack::smack::smack::smack::smack::smack::smack::smack::smack:
Did not think of that. It’s gone now. I bow lowly in your direction.
The doctors told my sister-in-law over the weekend that her two cancers (sarcoma and leukemia) have progressed to the point where they’re no longer treatable. Since her kidneys have also shut down, how long she has left probably depends on whether she wants to keep putting herself through dialysis for several hours every day.
Fucking cancer.
I’m so sorry.
Filbert, when my husband asks why I’m boiling my small appliances, I’m gonna blame you. Eeeew!
And I’m so sorry Runestar.
I was going to complain that it seems every shirt I own, I drop food on it!
But it’s not that important. I’m sorry.
So I bought myself some baked Cheetos. I adore Cheetos. They were all I wanted to eat (that and mayo, for some reason) when I was pregnant with my firstborn. So I got a bag of the baked version as a treat. But, goddammit, the “cheese” powder on the Cheetos gave me mouth sores! And they hurt like hell! What the fuck, Cheetos? Why have you forsaken me?? Why must you punish me simply because I love your cheesey, powdery deliciousness? Within 10 seconds of brushing off the corners of my mouth, the skin that was touched by the cheese suddenly became ridiculously inflamed with teeny blisters. And so end my Cheetos-chomping days. Bastards.
The girl I just started dating- one of her cats died yesterday. He wasn’t doing well and she was planning on putting him down today, but then he took a turn and got even worse. I wasn’t able to see her in person- I won’t be able to see her until Thursday, but she said me just being available via text helped her get through the day. She just wanted hugs.
I’m sorry, Runestar.
I’m sorry, Runestar. I found out this evening a friend has had a recurrence of her multiple myeloma. Fuck it all, cancer, when you’re fucking beat stay fucking beat.
I have spent the last 3 or so days getting the cat room throughly cleaned and de-haired in prep for putting down new linoleum. Does anyone know where I can by superglue by the gallon? I’m gonna dip these little automatic fur-shedding machines in it. I have literally swept up and otherwise gathered enough cat hair to crochet a cat. And it’s all grey. I don’t HAVE a grey cat!
My sympathies Runestar.
Goddamn suppliers are screwing me again.
First one sends me the wrong hinges. I call, they overnight the correct ones, Fedex loses them. I can’t deliver a $10,000 project until I get the special hinges the client specified.
And now a different supplier is having trouble with a top coat finish and can’t ship the thing I need for another day. I was supposed to get it three days ago. It’ll be a week late, forcing me to work crazy hours for four days straight. Over a holiday weekend.
See I plan how long it takes me to do things, and now my plans get fucked up because others can’t plan properly.
I’m so sorry, Runestar.
My mother died of uterine cancer in November. My grandfather died a month later, on Christmas Eve. Today in the library, I found a book that both of them would have loved to see – on the cover was a picture taken of a little boy in Buchenwald. My grandfather took pictures of the same little boy when he was one of the US soldiers who liberated the camp in 1945. (I posted about this before, but about 10-15 years ago, my mother found that little boy [now a 60-something man] and arranged for my grandfather to meet him.) I wish my mother and grandfather were here with me so I could show this book to them. No one else I know would appreciate it in the same way.
Cancer is terrible, death is terrible, grief is a slow burn.
Sorry for the double post but the MPSIMS thread on cruel things your teacher said reminded me of this, but it doesn’t really fit in that thread.
When I was in elementary school I was part of a gifted program where a few days a month, the kids in the program were bussed to another school across town with gifted ed teachers for the day. The classes were all electives and you weren’t graded – very fun learning environment where you could do all kinds of projects just for the hell of it, without the fear of failing. When I was 10 years old I elected to take a class with the math teacher – a first for me, since I didn’t usually enjoy math, so I had never worked with the teacher before. I think it was a class on 3-D games, like tangrams, etc.
At one point in the day, the teacher was addressing the whole class and I was fiddling with the tangrams while listening to her. I heard her repeatedly try to get some kid’s attention, but assumed it was someone other than me because I was listening to her. Finally she screamed – screamed, shrilly, like someone being assaulted – “HEY! I’M TALKING TO YOU!” I looked up and was shocked to find her staring at me. I was completely mortified for incurring that kind of anger, especially in front of the whole class, and also angry at her because I had been listening to her. Of course I didn’t say this, but just slumped in my seat. She then gave me a lecture on paying attention. I never took another class with her again, because I was afraid of her (I was a pretty sensitive kid who rarely got in trouble).
Who knows, if she hadn’t scared the shit out of me that day, I may have taken more fun classes with her and learned to love math!
Great. I just got asked to work Memorial Day weekend. And then, when asking if holiday pay would be offered, was firmly told of course not. Fuck you, employer.
:rolleyes:
So this girl I know got suckered by the ol’ “Your computer is infected and we need remote access to fix it” scam. Lost $400, I believe.
May those scum-sucking maggots rot in the fiery depths of hell. (Apologies for insulting maggots.)
Ugh, I feel her pain. I had something like this happen to me last month, and wished all kinds of interesting stuff on the writers of this shit.
Fuck off and die hotmail. That’s the third time I can’t get into my fucking email today. Incompetent fuckers. Why is hotmail so awful? Can anyone tell me how to migrate all my old emails into a gmail account? Thanks.