First, I know the crapper doesn’t flush the first time you try. That’s no reason to give up. Assuming, of course, that you attempted to flush it at all. If you didn’t, go back to second grade.
Second, who knows if the mystery non-flusher is the same person, but forthelovofgod!
Who eats wings while taking a shit? Honestly! Apparently, someone who thinks it’s okay to leave the bones on the floor.
Maybe I’ll just get a colostomy bag, and save myself the trouble.
Just ran into a new one - ~$60 per ticket, to see Billy Idol at a casino. I’m a true child of the 80’s, and I’d love to see Billy Idol live, but $120? At a crappy casino? For someone who may or may not have enough braincells left to actually remember the words to any songs? I’ll not be taking a chance on this one, I don’t think. I wish the people booking things like this would get a clue - dude’s 20 years out of date - maybe you should charge a reasonable ticket price.
To the stupid lady in the grocery store, you had all that time to chat with the cashier while he was ringing up your humongous order but no! You wait until your done and paid and I start to tell him that I have a heavy item under my cart, then you interrupt me and tie him up for the entire time he’s ringing up my order. Why? Because you’re an idiot.
For one thing if you paid attention to the news the tomato recall did not include 'on the vine" or Florida tomatoes. Secondly, if the tomatoes were recalled the store would not be selling them. Thirdly, he’s a cashier, do you really think he’s up to date on the produce? Heck maybe someone working in the uh … produce section would be the person to ask before you actually went through the checkout with your tomatoes! Since you were too stupid to do that you could have just went to the customer service desk and asked them instead of tying up the cashier while he was ringing me up and preventing me from telling him something important and thereby delaying my transaction as well. And finally, he kept trying to tell you he didn’t know and you should ask in the produce section or customer service but you kept talking over him and saying “well, I guess you wouldn’t be selling them if they were recalled.” Well, yeah since you had that all figured out then why did you still need to keep asking and saying the same thing numerous times? Heck if you had even listened to him and let him tell you whom to ask you would have been done in 15 seconds and out of my way.
How about the second biggest peeve - people who risk their pets’ lives because they are clueless morons. Seriously, if you are a dog owner at a branch line station with the narrow (4 feet at most) platforms and an express line through the centre, with your (sizeable) dog, should you:
a) Have it on a leash that you are holding and stay well away from the platform edge.
b) Have it sitting quietly by you with a hand on its collar.
c) Have no leash and collar. Pull a red bouncy ball out of your backpack and start playing chase by lobbing the ball down the length of the platform, and refusing to stop, despite being asked over the tannoy.
… did I mention the express train was coming up? It ended up stopped outside the station while the railway staff removed the idiot.
The two other dog owners, (who were doing a and b) seemed less than impressed. They had to make sure their own dogs did not chase the ball, but with the looks they were giving you you should have dropped dead on the spot. But what the hell were you thinking? Who gets an unleashed dog to chase a ball up and down the length of a platform, risking the dog, passengers, staff, train crew, etc.? Did you think it would be funny if it went onto the tracks, or under the train? Ma’am your license as a pet owner needs to be thoroughly revoked. You couldn’t be trusted with an origami fish. On the other hand, here’s an idiot award. Enjoy it moron, you’ve earned it.
Nope. (I guess because this is an Outlook folder? Who knows. And I’m not going to spend any time trying to find out!)
Ended up finding info on changing permissions, which is where the answer lies… (Don’t ask me how long it took to find info on HOW to change permissions… Or the fact that my profile is listed as the owner with appropriate permisssions… and that the “default” is NOT me and does NOT have the right permissions… Gah!)
Egad, that sounds ruder than I intended, Projammer. Allow me to rephrase - Thank you for the tip. I appreciate it. Unfortunately, it does not apply to this situation. But I hope you will be willing to help in the future if I need it (because this is The Pit), asshat.
I just had a big lunch and work is slow so I’m a bit sleepy so this from tirial,
and this from Mahna Mahna,
got me laughing. Thank you.
I’m going to pit the bird who likes to go to the tree right outside my bedroom window, which being on the second story I leave open at night when it’s warm out, and chirp its damn fool head off at 4:30 AM and waking me up. Are you dumb? The sun is not even out yet and here you are celebrating the new day. Fuck off Woody!
Also I’m going to pit Cate Blanchett who plays Bob Dylan in the Movie “I’m Not There.” Which I thought was an enjoyable movie, even though I have no interest in the man, but come on Cate, you whore, if you’re going to play a male at least cut your damn fingernails.
I pit gravity. Leave my old cat alone, dammit! She fell from the ledge where she likes to sleep, about 13-15 feet. She’s limping, but moving around–but dammit, she’s old, and can’t do that! Let her float softly to the ground, gravity! (especially since I just brought one cat to the vet yesterday for what may turn out to be bone cancer…I don’t want my babies hurt, dammit!)
Due to some weird circumstances, I now find myself needing to do a whole lot of clothes shopping all at once after hardly having done any in a long time (see the jeans thread).
Maybe this was always true and I never noticed it, but now a good 1/3rd to 1/2 of the floor space for every store is now dedicated to “petites.” Of course, this area of the store is always empty - because there simply aren’t that many short people. (I looked today - most of the shoppers were around my height and definitely not short enough for petite clothes). The sale racks are overstuffed with petite clothing, because there weren’t enough short people to buy the clothes in the first place. But the stores are over stocked with the stuff.
So of course something has to get pushed out of the way for these mounds and mounds of unbought clothing with no market, and it’s tall. To get anything long, you have to order on line and hope like hell it fits. It isn’t even sold out, they don’t stock longs at all. They mass produce them, just don’t stock them. Because apparently, long legged freaks shouldn’t get a chance to try on clothes before buying them, just give money and hope like hell it fits.
My husband is a RN for a quadriplegic patient, who decided today he wants to be taken off of his ventilator. Since he is not totally dependent on it, this may or may not result in his death. Mr. SCL has cared for this man for two years, 12 hours a day for at least 3 days a week. It it impossible not to get attached, both to him and his family.
His cousin, who was as close or closer to him than his sisters, died last month of breast cancer. He is executor of her estate. Paperwork and hassles, including the stupid state of Alabama which cannot seem to get the damned death certificate correct. It has been sent back three times now. He can’t do anything toward settling the estate until he has that.
I got the results from my mammogram. “We saw something we didn’t like; come back in 6 months.” So I get to worry for 6 months. Did I mention he lost his cousin to breast cancer?
We are two people short at work - one quit and another was in a car accident and broke her back. I was only scheduled for one day off this week, with today being a short (4 hour) shift instead of a full day off. So my friggin’ team leader calls in sick and I have to work the entire shift. Yeah, the one who is always bitching about being broke.
I gave blood today and the damned finger stick for the iron test left the entire tip of my finger bruised. I type at work.
I can only hope I got the entire week’s worth of crap over with.
I got horrible sunburned the past two days. Now I walk around very stiffly and don’t move my neck. Gah, I don’t find sweating my ass off for 11 hours in a row, but I fucking hate sunburn.
Corporate installs litter my programs menu with a random mash of folders and shortcuts. In Windows, “right-click” and “open” should allow you to rearrange your programs menu, and it allows you to rearrange some bastardized alter-ego of the menu, but not the “real” programs menu. I don’t want to spend hours manually dragging and ctrl-copying a twitchy pop-up menu.
Example, if I click “Start” – “All Programs” – “Accessories” I see 9 program icons in the pop-up menu. However, if I right-click “Open” the Accessories folder to move stuff around and make it tidy, there are only 6 icons. WTF?
I am pissed as hell that after 'lo these many years of being a member in good standing that I lost my “Charter Member” tag because I couldn’t pay up a few weeks ago. I decided that keeping the lights on was more important at the time. All this bad shit happened, and I don’t even get to keep that as a consolation.
Yes, some people think the tag thing is silly. I don’t care. I liked it, and now I miss it.
Fuckittyfuck bitchcake.
And now I speak too soon. It still says it. I take it back, and minirant at myself for assuming it would be gone.
Everything but the bitchcake part. I like that word.
Mr. SCL’s patient died last night. I feel so bad for his parents; this is the third one of their four children they have buried.
RIP Ron. I know you are glad to be free of that chair and that respirator. We will take care of Fish for you, and keep in touch with your parents. You will be missed.
Where the fuck is my fucking brake tool? I bought this cool fucking brake tool a couple of months ago to make the fucking job of changing my fucking brake pads a little fucking easier. I left it on the fucking kitchen counter for a week or two after it fucking arrived, but later put it away somewhere I fucking knew I’d fucking be able to find it.
So on Wednesday, the first fucking time I needed to replace the fucking pads since getting it, I looked every fucking place I could fucking think of, and couldn’t find the fucking thing. Fuck!
Where the fuck is it? Did one of you fuckers sneak into my fucking house and fucking steal it while I was fucking?
