Reciprocal cuts in quarter round - I HATE YOU.
(I also hate myself for messing up the cuts enough times that I end up with lots of little bits of quarter round sitting on my workbench as I try to finish the flooring in my home office).
Activity is not the same as progress.
just saying.
Roommate, you need to get off the Ambien. Seriously. It’s not meant to be used as a hallucinogen.
My jaw fell open so far it hit the keyboard. I wish my parents had only taken away my stuff while I was sleeping.
He “took the car away” again yesterday. The kid was suspended from school and the plan was for him to get up at the same time as usual, study, and rake the yard. In actuality, the kid wouldn’t get out of bed until about 4 o’clock in the afternoon. He tidied his room and was then allowed to take the car to go visit his mom in the hospital.* This morning, the kid is driving himself to school.
*In the interest of full disclosure, the kid’s mom is dying. I’m not really expecting him to be on his best behavior. But my husband, although I love him, doesn’t know fuck-all about parenting.
I don’t know how you got so many gigs, jackass, but I hear your stupid hyper-enunciating voice on almost every mail-order commercial now.
Stop saying one-ay-tundred.
I’m on the board of a student organization. We are running a photo contest. I am in charge of it. The rule is that you can enter three pictures, tops, and they must be taken BY the entrant.
We have gotten lots of really awesome photos.
But one girl just sent me EIGHT photos and told me to pick the ones I liked best. Um, no. I (nicely) wrote back to say she could pick three or I would take the first three attached. So she resubmitted three photos, and I took a moment to look at them finally. And they’re VACATION SNAPSHOTS. She’s IN the pictures!
WTF? It’s a PHOTO contest, not a LOOK WHERE I’VE BEEN contest.
(I wrote back to say that she needed to actually have TAKEN the photo. That was just a few minutes ago. I’m not holding my breath that she can actually figure it out. BTW, she’s the ONLY person out of forty or so who has had trouble understanding the rules.)
And now my stepson’s gotten busted for weed at school. Every day a new adventure, I tells ya.
Dear friend,
We’ve known each other for several years now. We were roommates last year, we shared our art and writing and photography, shared worries and dark secrets and bitch-fests. We’ve grown apart this year, but I still want to know what important things are happening in your life. When I ask you in person, you act as though everything is normal. Boring, even.
But then you go and update your online journal (friends-locked, but viewable by me and a few others) with comments like this: And now there’s family drama. So, so much. I told him about it, how I was scared. Or maybe I didn’t tell him; maybe he just knew. “You can park at my house,” he said, “and we can ride to the hospital together.” When I ask you about this, you refuse to reply.
Friend, stop giving me passive-aggressive details about your life. Every time you write about how wonderful A, B, and C are and how much they understand you better than anyone else, you imply that I just can’t understand you like that. If I really can’t understand all the broiling emotions and dramatic events you’re going through, fine. But don’t tell me about them. Don’t tease me with angst-filled, emo-tastic hints and then leave me in the dark. That hurts, friend. It hurts when you broadcast how little you trust me.
Why am I staring at an eight-year-old female’s ass crack? Oh, that’s right: because it’s splayed out in front of me, practically slapping me in the face. Parents, I know your darling little bimbos want to dress (and act) like prostitutes to attract the guys (just like most females under 20), but please wait until they are sexually mature and ready to have sex, say 10 or 11, to dress them so. Then I’ll willingly stare at the ass crack they willingly offer.
Apparently, there’s an organization called “Methadone Anonymous.” Is it trying to get people off methadone? Mais non. It’s an organization that advocates the rights of people to continue to take methadone all their damn lives if it keeps them off opiates and/or alcohol.
Leaving aside the validity of that as a treatment modality, I’m irked by using the name “Methadone Anonymous” under those circumstances. I think it’s misleading. It’s like Alcoholics Anonymous being made up of people asserting their right to drink. Pick another name, please.
Dear bus driver:
It’s cold and wet outside, which means that everyone riding the bus today will be wearing a coat. Therefore, there is no earthly fucking reason to keep the interior temperature at 85 degrees! If you need it that goddamn hot all the time, get out of Washington and move to Jamaica.
I had to drive an extra 20 minutes to a crappy theater to see Coraline, because the nearby theater with a huge screen and stadium seating was only showing it in 3D. I would just like to point out to movie studios and theaters alike that some people cannot see 3D movies, but would still like to give you money, so fucking stop with the 3D only crap.
Two weeks ago I had three potholes across the street from my house. They were large. They were irksome. Then the city came and filled them in with cold patch (whatever agregate plus tar sticky stuff they use… its not asphault) Of course, it was hovering around the freezing point, alternately freezing, thawing, raining snowing at the time. So of course the potholes were full of water and ice, then filled with some goo, patted down and left to go.
So now, as a result of pushing water, ice whatever, deeper underground during March, with more freezing, thawing cycles… there are aproximately NINE potholes in that same area. Huge puddles, deep craters. Aproximately 20 school buses a day go past my house, plus two city buses go along there. Its nasty and dangerous.
I am not an engineer, nor am I a construction worker. Why is it then that I saw the danger of cold patching the potholes, while the city seems oblivious?
Not worthy of its own thread but worthy of a mini rant:
Yesterday on The Today Show a travel writer had a segment on “how to stretch your vacation dollars in this economy”- advice on how to still take the family on vacation even if your 401K is wiped out and you’re having to count pennies. Okay, good idea for a segment.
Her advice included:
—Instead of going to Kenya or the Serengeti, take your family on Safari to [some safari park with giraffes and other animals] in southern California, where you can get a tent for only $240 per night! And… if you have dinner there it’s $50 off if you’re a guest.
Or, instead of the Riviera go to Bermuda: only $280 per night per room double occupancy! Or this golf resort in South Carolina where a room for 2 is only $100 per night if you stay six nights!
Watching this I was thinking "These people don’t have a frucking clue what’s meant by ‘budget’ or ‘counting pennies’ do they? Most Americans in the best of times can’t afford to take the family to Bermuda, $280 per night is not a great price on a room for 2 people, and $600 for 6 nights at a golf resort is NOT a bargain unless you’re just really really into golf!
If I were to advise people on a budget vacation it would include things like “how to book a 4 star room for $60 online” (which I’ve done several times), or “places where most of the attractions are free or very cheap” (Washington D.C. for instance). Pump heritage trips: vacations to historic attractions that are interesting but extremely economic. Tips on getting roundtrip airfare ridiculously cheap- “vacations for two adults on $125 per day” (which can be done if you know how to find bargains online and choose places that aren’t quite as well known or are really hurting for business). Advise them on places not to go. Warn them about the “charge 'em for the mice/extra for the lice/three percent for looking in the mirror twice” places where the $75 room price that sounds great for a nice hotel tacks on a $30 per day parking fee and a $30 room tax and other fees that double or triple the actual bill and all the attractions and restaurants are overpriced.
Again, not worth a pit thread, but it was just another “damn, they don’t have a clue how people without six figure incomes get by do they?” media moment.
Well, you couldn’t expect him to leave it in his car, could you? His dad might confiscate the car tonight, and bogart the whole bag! 
Maybe they were trying to name themselves “Methadone Unanimous,” but they were so strung out, they couldn’t remember how to spell it.
And tell the people who give you those gigs that telephone numbers only have seven digits. If they don’t get the hint, then instead of, say, “1-800 IRS PROBLEMS,” holler out “1-800 IRS PROB!”
Actually, it was in the car. If dad hadn’t given him the car back, this never would have happened!
Even worse. Now he’s gonna claim that his dad left it there while he had the car last night.