Happy Birthday, Alice! You do need to do two things - first, make your birthday special to yourself, and second, you’re right, you need to stop sending cards and gifts to people who don’t reciprocate. What would be a real treat for you to give yourself on your birthday? Make that your new birthday tradition.
There is something deeply wrong with the city road work planners around this city - we have a big commuter highway running north and south through town (Deerfoot Trail for the Albertans in the crowd), with overpass bridges running over it every couple of kilometers. For some unknown asinine reason, they have decided to do work on every bridge in the north half of this road at the same time this summer. Don’t like this road because it’s jammed up from the bridgework? Too bad! They’re all tore down and ripped up and congested! Nobody gets from the east to the west or vice versa easily this summer! City hall jerks.
Just to clarify, it’s been a wonderful birthday over all- my friends and cow-orkers all got the message years ago that my b-day’s important to me and it’s been lovely. I just have a thick family- they’re all so obsessed over their own lives that even being whacked upside the head with a clue-by-four as I’ve done every year doesn’t faze them. That’s why they are bastards. But the rest of the year I love the crap out of them.
It’s just that she has a plan, and she’s anxious to put it in motion. It involves taking the $1000 and using that to buy lottery tickets, then using the winnings from that to buy… well, I won’t go into the minutiae, but it’s truly ingenious and can’t fail.
I did have ONE idiot who got mad at a coworker and I because after we refunded her money, we couldn’t get her a pop out of the cafe cooler (said cafe was closed). Coworker told her, no, he’d be stealing, and she stomped off in a huff.
How about: stupid newspaper comes and is missing an entire section-the Forum, which has the Sunday crosswords, which I like to do all week. Meaning I gotta go down to the BP before work and pick up another one. (I’ll just share the rest of it at work).
Picked up a new bottle of Tropicana orange juice at the grocery store over the weekend. I noticed that the bottle had been redesigned. Suspicious, I checked the new bottle of juice against the one already in my refrigerator. Sure enough, the old bottle held 96 ounces, but the new bottle only holds 89.x ounces. Naturally, the price for the two was the same.
Huh. I should check that too. I was only pissed that that new cap isn’t very secure. So, when I went to give the jug a good shake the other morning (I drink the pulpy variety and like to mix it up before pouring), I spewed OJ all over the kitchen. They dropped the volume too? Shit.
I noticed this at work a while back when I was tossing stock in the pet aisle. The Purina Dog Chow bags are New! And Improved! and don’t tear as easily. Evidently the material they made the old bags out of were much heavier because instead of weighing 40 lbs now, they weight 37.5 for the same price.
But hey, that’s still 2-1/2 pounds less I have to heft to the shelf every night.
Fucking gastritis. I’ve felt for the last few days like someone punched me in the stomach. Bonus points for having…um…never mind. Let’s just say that I’ve spent more time in the bathroom than usual. Miserable.
I know you hate life and want the rest of us to know it, and apparently your start time at noon is making you cranky, but don’t take it out on the rest of us. I still haven’t gotten to the point where I can understand why you’re so belligerent and nasty for the first three hours of your work shift on a consistent basis. I’m also baffled at why you must insist on treating me like I’m an imbecile or someone who needs to go back to “their country” any time I mention something in passing as part of conversation. Please wash the sand out of your vagina.
No love,
Nashiitashii
Dear Inattentive Mother,
I work here in the library, and I’m shelving books, which is part of my job. Quit giving me dirty looks while you abandon your children in the children’s section of the library. We have rules regarding supervision of children, and you’re a hair’s breadth away from breaking one of them because of the age of your children. I’m not a child molester, and you’re not Scylla.
Go suck an egg and supervise your own kids. We’re not a babysitting service.
That’s one of those things that I would hate to pay for - we are perfectly capable of cleaning, we just don’t like it.
Ha HAH - I pissed off my micro-managing, bossy bitch of a co-worker good yesterday, on my second last day. It was her own damned fault, and I think that probably made her even madder.
Oh, wait, that wasn’t a rant - well, her behaviour for the last nine months sure has been rant-worthy. She should be in a position where her extreme aggressiveness is a plus; something like drill sargeant, or mob hitman.
Nope, not everyone. My SO doesn’t have it, but he lives in the woods and is heavily shaded by trees. He also has a whole-house fan, and that works really well at keeping it cool. Well, maybe not air-conditioning-chilly, but comfortable, at least.
I have AC at home, and in my car, and I use them all the time when it’s hot. While I’m at work, I’m in and out all day long, in a somewhat strenuous job, so when it’s hot and humid, I hate it. I go to a lot of places that keep their AC set fairly high, so it’s never really cool while we’re there.
(I hate when it rains as well.)
