My step-mom collects McDonalds toys. Why? I don’t know. Some people just like to collect things. I’m guessing it’s from evolution back when we were hunter gatherers and food was scarce so we humans thought, “I have to collect as much food as possible so I don’t die.” She has a boatload of Beanie Babies though.
Anyways, as a Free American, it should be illegal to lie to me. That’s not right and violates The Constitution. I bought a jar of Famous Daves Signature Spicy Pickle Spears and those sons of bitches aren’t spicy at all. I can barely detect any spice at all. They are 99% sweet and only 1% spicy. They’re still tasty though.
Does she understand that just because the toys came from McDonalds, they’re inedible? And that Beanie Babies don’t contain actual beans? I hope she has other sources of food.
ETA: ACK all these people posted while I was typing…
HMV Confusion. I knew all that growing up in the 60’s…the dog, the gramophone etc, but like the others, for some reason failed to make the connection with HMV…must have assumed it was modern whereas RCA Victor was my childhood…you know, vintage.
The Constitution protects what you say – what you hear, not so much. If lying were illegal, we would not have enough prisons.
What is a lie? If the pickles are 1% spicy, they are have a non-zero amount of spiciness. For some people, that is spicy enough. For you, you can add some wasabi powder or tabasco to the jar, to bring the spiciness up to your requirements.
Lying is kind of problematic. If you say a thing that is truthy, is it an actual lie? Is obfuscation lying? Where do you draw the line? Do people actually have to get shafted, hurt or die because of lies? History seems to show that, no, some people can lie their asses off, cause illness and death, and still be allowed to keep their ill-gotten gains. It is the system, man, and it is more than a tad fucked up.
My 88 year old mother, who is legally blind and doesn’t hear well, got a letter from her insurer saying I’m not a valid advocate for her and my advocate access to her medical records and the right to make decisions for her, which I’ve been doing for over five years, has been revoked. With no explanation. Now she is going to have to call them and try to speak to them, even though she can’t hear over the phone.
Stupid fucking laptop. Somehow I keep randomly grabbing whole words moving them to different parts of my sentence without even noticing and leaving complete gibberish. Here, personal emails and work emails etc.
I’m going to have to make an appointment with the laser tattoo removal place to get one excised from my forehead - the one that says “Seat This Person At The Worst Possible Table”.
I can’t see it when I look in the mirror but it must be there, since restaurant personnel semi-infallibly escort me and Mrs. J to the Bad Table.
Sorry no, but I am not going to sit at the table in the middle of the floor surrounded by high-traffic lanes right next to the Extended Nightmare Family with their six squalling brats and dozen cellphones. Not when there are several empty, quiet booths at which we can sit.
Nope, don’t want to sit in the bar, at the counter, next to the bathrooms or right by the swinging door to the kitchen either.
I now have two co-workers who have come down with Mysterious Weekend Flu Syndrome. That is, they’re totally fine on Thursday and then suddenly gravely ill on Friday and Saturday. Fine again on Sunday, then gosh it just hits them again the following Friday.
Fridays and Saturdays are the busiest days of the week and can be extremely stressful and exhausting. My guess as to the reasons for these particular people is not so much partying all night as it is just that, when fully staffed, Fridays and Saturdays are balls-to-the-wall marathons of utter madness. Of course they don’t want to come in. None of us really do.
You know what sucks more, though? Walking in prepared for the lunacy of the day to discover than nobody else felt like putting on their big girl panties and showing up to work today, so you get to do it alone.
This is the third week in a row they have both done this to me.
Not sure this should be a mini-rant because it worked out in my favor but here goes:
Car rental places, WHY can’t you be bothered to list hybrid vehicles on your websites? Or even in your individual offices? I was planning a week in Hawaii, and I looked up “hybrid vehicle rentals Honolulu” on Google. I got one hit to a site that appeared to be a broker for rentals. They said they had no hybrids to rent (ever), but Enterprise did.
Well, they didn’t on their website. I called the office for the Honolulu International Airport location. They told me they didn’t have any hybrids. I tried the Honolulu Chamber of Commerce and was referred to the Hawaii Visitors Bureau. They told me I’d need to call every rental office at the airport until I found one.
None of them would admit to having one.
I finally went to the Enterprise site and chose “You Click, We Pick,” where I’d reserve something in advance, and they would decide what to give me on the lot when I arrived. It was guaranteed to seat five adults, anyway, so I figured I might luck into a midsize.
When we checked in, they offered me a Nissan pickup (it had a king cab), but I knew that kaylasmom would have difficulty getting in and out, so they then offered a nice Subaru sedan. Kaylasmom said “What we’d really like is a Prius.” I was about to explain to her again that I’d already found out that hybrids were unavailable, when the agent said, “I’ve got a Prius.”
So we got a 2017 Prius sedan for the week. It was a pleasure to drive (and I put a couple of hundred miles on it, at the cost of seven gallons of gas), but Enterprise could have made more money on the rental and saved me a bit of aggravation by making the information more findable.
So I broke down and took my two monsters to the self serve dog washing place. My monsters are Benny, a large black Labrador\Pit Bull mix, and Ava, a small Pit Bull\Boston Terrier mix.
Benny, for some reason, was freaked out. He snipped at the lady who was trying to cut his nails and bit my sister in law when she was trying to blow dry him. It was pretty obvious he was scared. But we got both of them washed and dried and back into the truck.
I though the worst was over. I was wrong.
About a mile down the freeway, we were overcome by a horrible stench. My SIL looked in the back seat…and Benny had pooped. And pooped mightily. Fortunately, I had put down a blanket over the seat. Unfortunately, Ava stepped in and then freaked the fuck out. She tried to run away from it, not realizing she was taking it with her. It was on her legs, paws and on her leash. She jumped up on SILs shoulders.
We pulled off the freeway, and as luck would have it, there was a 24 hour vet right there. We pulled in and got the monsters out of the car. Of course, Ava jumped into the front seat, spreading the poop all over everything. Both seats, the console and the door.
The vet took pity on us and gave us a container of disinfectant wipes. We spent the better part of an hour wrangling two scared dogs and trying to clean the poop off of them and the seats. We got them back into the truck and were headed home. Ava was still agitated, but Benny was calm as a Hindu cow.
We got home, through the leashes and our poop-stained clothes into the washer and I commenced to scrubbing my seats. Now I need to find a detail place to shampoo them.
You’ve got my sympathy. One of my cats has loose stools from the meds he has to take… and rather than doing it in the litter box, it’s all over the house. Floors, bed, carpeting, stairs, on the paving stones out on the enclosed patio. The entire house is his toilet.
