14 hours and counting until my pathetic excuse for a roommate is on a plane and I never have to see her again. This is going to be the longest 14 hours of my life. She still has 3 loads of laundry to do and none of her things are packed. You know where she is? Seeing the Sex and the City movie. I will take the opportunity to nap a bit while she is gone since she isn’t leaving until 3 in the morning and I can’t leave the house or fall asleep until she has handed over her keys and officially left because my laptop and anything else of value will end up in her suitcase if I don’t pay attention. I will be glad when she is gone but now my rent has doubled while I find a replacement roommate. This whole situation is the emotional equivalent of being raped with a cactus.
To avoid this whole argument, just tell people, “I’m trying to get in better physical shape because it makes me feel better.” Then they can’t argue the whole definition of fat with you.
But, given the ahem reasoning used by CaerieD’s mother, she’d still tell CaerieD that she’s going about it wrong, because exercise isn’t going to help. :rolleyes:
So all you have to do is say you are running because you want to. End of argument.
“I don’t want to end up with a butt[sup]*[/sup] like yours.”
[sup]*[/sup]or whatever body part seems most appropriate.
Hey, all you old people in the hospital–if you’re going to try to die, would you at least have the common fucking courtesy to do it at a decent hour? In the mid-to-late morning while I’m already there to do rounds would be ideal, but even late afternoon or early evening would be fine.
4:00 AM is right out. If you want me at my best to help you not die, that’s just not a good time. It’s also going to be hard enough to explain to the family that Grandma has a machine helping her breathe right now without doing it ten minutes after they’ve been dragged out of bed.
KTHXBYE.
Ugh. A lady just came up to me at my desk at the university library I work at. Our library is open to the public but obviously certain privileges are only open to students (checking books out, since you need student ID, and using the good computers in the lab that have Office and stuff, because you need student number and password to login). There are 5 computers on my floor, that have Internet Explorer only. These computers are for searching the card catalog and looking through databases for journals. It explicitly says so on the desktop.
So this lady comes up to me and asks why Microsoft Office isn’t on the computers. I tell her these computers were put here for searching the card catalog and looking up articles in the database to see if we carry them here etc, the “good” computers are downstairs in the lab and are for students. She went on a calm yet rude tirade about how not everyone that uses the library are students and can’t access the lab, it’s a “age of technology” and other schools let anyone use good computers, not everyone physically goes to school, etc. I tried to be nice, saying I guess they don’t put Word on these computers because they are not here for writing papers, that is what the numerous labs are for. She kept getting madder and madder. All I wanted to do was yell:
FUCK YOU BITCH YOU DON’T PAY TUITION HERE THAT’S WHY YOU DON’T GET TO USE THE GOOD COMPUTERS, GO TO THE PUBLIC LIBRARY LIKE I TOLD YOU. WE ALL PAY THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS TO WAIT IN LINE AT OUR SHITTY LABS WITHOUT ENOUGH COMPUTERS WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GO TO A COLLEGE LIBRARY THAT YOU DON’T ATTEND AND USE ALL THE RESOURCES THE STUDENTS PAY FOR?
She got really mean near the end and just quit listening to anything I had to say.
Oh, and she told me to tell my boss to do something about the situation. I told her my boss is on vacation and she isn’t the one who controls the computers, but that either she could go downstairs and find someone or I could later. She got all pissy and kept telling me “I don’t need to know all that just tell your boss” even though my boss is gone for the next 10 days, she won’t fucking care (I know my boss, but no I did not say this), and she can’t do anything about it anyway. I was trying to tell her I’d try to find the right person (1 guy handles every computer in here) but she stopped listening so I wrote a note explaining her problem and she took it and went somewhere.
Think I might go make a poll in IMHO now…
She’s gone, right? How’d it go?
She is gone. I helped her haul her suitcases out to the curb at 2:30 this morning. We hugged, I took her keys, and I went upstairs and read for a bit before going to sleep. I am now boiling water to try to get rid of a grease clog in the kitchen sink from where she had been inappropriately draining grease.
I’m glad she is gone. Living with her was so incredibly difficult. It seemed like every single decision she made was specifically for the purpose of making my life as hard as possible. From the rape accusations to the double standards and her not telling me she was going to move out until I presented her with the new lease for the apartment everything she did was designed to cause as much trouble as possible.
On the other side of that coin though I am now living alone. I really don’t like living alone. I have this fear that I am going to fall in the shower or choke to death and be left lying here for weeks with no one having any idea what happened. The next time I have to hang up curtian rods or haul something heavy up the stairs who will help? Who will feed the kitties if I have to go out or stay late for work? Who will bring me soup and orange juice when I’m sick? How will I cope if I lose my job or something since I am now paying for everything on my own?
I’m looking for a new roommate but I don’t want to live with a stranger and no one I know needs a new place to live. I think I have 1 person who might be a suitable prospect but she doesn’t need a place to live until August when her classes start up again. I can afford to cover things on my own for the next year if I need to and I am sure I could find someone to move in tomorrow if it was absolutely necessary but it is still a frightening experience and I am going to be really lonely for a while. I am taking advantage of her being gone (I am watching a movie she hates completely naked in the living room, which is fun but will lose it’s allure after a while 
) and I have set up a lot of social stuff over the next month to make the transition less intense. I still occasionally start crying for no reason though. Sigh. It will be fine in a few days, I’m sure, but until then I am going to continue to have momentary freak outs and take baths instead of showers and eat soft foods.
myskeptic, for someone bitching at you like that who has no leg to stand on, I would just nod and smile and agree with everything she says and do absolutely nothing about her complaints when she’s gone - she’d run out of steam much faster that way and leave, and that’s what you really want, right?
CaerieD: If someone questinos why you were running, tell them it was only because you were being chased. 
People who pound on the windows of ground-level apartments at 4 AM shouldn’t be so fucking stoned that they keep arguing when you tell them that Steve doesn’t live here anymore. And that he hasn’t for years.
Re my earlier issue: I decided to man up and take the boy to visit his dad in the hospital on Saturday, but when I called for the room number, I was told he’s been released. Thank procrastination!
Today I have a far mini-er rant: People keep stopping by my desk to tell me it was Tammy’s birthday on Sunday, what are we planning to do about it? I guess that means I’m elected to go around harassing people for cake money. I like Tammy fine, but this assumption that I organize everything is bullshit.
Dear Stranger-at-my-party #1: Don’t do coke in my bathroom with your friend. Don’t get pissy when I kick you out of my house for doing coke in my bathroom with your friend. Be extremely grateful that I did not go and grab two of the off-duty police officers that were enjoying some beers and burgers on the roof to bust your ass. Who invited you, anyway?
Dear Stranger-at-my-party #2: Don’t touch my cat. Don’t make jokes about how funny it would be to get my cat drunk. Yeah, I did kick you out of my house “over a cat.” To me, my cat’s life is worth fifty-thousand of yours. Who invited you, anyway?
Dear Roommate: You did! You invited these douchebags into my home! My friends are considerate and pleasant to be around and your friends are raging idiots. There is a reason my favorite daydream is you dying unpleasantly and me turning your room into a library.
Please don’t change my job description to reflect the department now being fully staffed, and then take the two other guys in the department and have them run machines. Fully staffed implies that I have access to them.
When I’m alone in a three-man department, please don’t start making snarky log entries when I’m busy doing something else and can’t help you. That pisses the bosses off and I have no way to avoid it.
And why is this schmuck the new order readiness guy for the die cutters? He’s physically incapable of doing the job, and he was just disqualified from the die cutters about two months ago. I’m going to end up having to do the heavy lifting he can’t do, and that’s very time consuming. That’s why we’re supposed to have someone to do it.
And this guy makes more money per hour than I do.
Fully staffed indeed.
Roommate, I wish you’d let us know when you’re going to bring your kids over on a weeknight. It was good thinking on your part to leave with them before I got up because I was planning to crash around like a drunk elephant and encouraging the dog to new levels of morning hyperactivity to “thank” you for letting me hear your kids fight over who was going to play Warcraft next all night.
From another thread, bow very deeply and say “Thankyouverymuch”.
I smell like a dog. Literally. Well, literally two dogs. Uh, maybe I should explain: I’m dog-sitting for my mom’s bosses. They have two pure-bred German Shepherds and so they are paying me something like a hundred bucks to spend the night at their place for two nights and feed their dogs. But I smell like a dog. Grrr.
I didn’t ask. If you want to tell me something about yourself that you feel is relevant to the discussion at hand, just fucking say it. Do you think you’re being clever?