Stupid produce fruit stickers. I don’t mind them putting little dime-sized stickers on fruit, I acknowledge that the checkers need it to tell an organic roma tomato from a normal roma tomato from a hothouse tomato that is just roma-mishapen.
I do mind picking at it endlessly with my fingernail and taking the tomato skin off with it since the adhesive is so strong. smashes tomato in fit of fury
Kid in my hydro class, you don’t have to start every question with “I just have a quick question.” No shit, that’s why you raised your hand, it’d also be a lot quicker if you didn’t say how quick it was going to be.
You can cover the foofy, girly tissue boxes with this slightly more manly tissue box cover. If that one doesn’t suit your needs, this one might
Oh good.
Why oh why do my employees think I’m a FUCKING IDIOT and that I won’t know that they are lying to my face about reading my e-mails??? I honestly think they all have rules set in Outlook to make anything from me go directly to Deleted Items. I ask them to prioritize certain things, hours go by and these things aren’t done. I ask them again, this time requesting a read receipt. NOT A FUCKING THING from any of them indicating that they read my e-mail. But if I call them on it they fucking lie and say well, there must be something wrong with Outlook because they certainly read my e-mail and they certainly wouldn’t lie to me about it. I furious and tired and sore from moving into our new house the for the last week - I just can’t even find the strength to work myself into a proper rage.
Useless bunch of fuckers. DO YOUR WORK.
I am coordinating the production of a large document. To do this I have to coordinate the work of a bunch of authors, an editor, and a designer, using Microsoft Office programs (sigh), and balancing the usually contradictory wishes of policy wonky bureaucrats with those of fancy pants graphic designers. (Not to mention all the other fun politics of editing, which I won’t get into here.)
To faciliate this, I painstakingly labelled all of the (hundreds of) headings H1, H2, H3, and H4, and I numbered them (the numbers were for the working copy only, and to be removed from the final version, but appear in the draft index which the editor made). This was done according to the nested hierarchy structure that the authors have been working from from the beginning. I sent it off to the designer and said “You may have trouble with the headings, please call me for clarification.” I called the designer on the day they said they’d return the proofs and they said “Oh yes, in a few days” - they kept putting me off, for a week and a half, until they acknowledged that it was late because they didn’t understand the headings.
The designer removed the heading numbers from the table of contents but not from the text, even though they would have been most useful in the table of contents, and in some places in the text they got it wrong anyway. Also the designer seems to have come up with a new way to do the H1, H2, H3 and H4s which is not in any way reflective of the organization of the text, or of my original instruction (for example, a bulleted list with 5 items became two Heading 3s, with three bullets under the second heading.) And now I find out that the editor has taken it upon himself to RENUMBER some of the headings in a way that made more sense to him.
Now I have to flip between an Excel doc (which has the heading numbers), a PDF table of contents (which has the heading names), the 200 page PDF document (which contains the numbered headings and page numbers that I need to replace the section numbers in the index), and the index. Each of these documents has SOME but not ALL of the information I need for each of the hundreds of small things I need to do today. And then, with my head full of numbers and headings, the designer calls me up and says “Look on page 22 - that heading there, you marked it as H4, are you sure?” Which of course totally throws me off track, I have no idea why I marked it that way but considering I’ve now marked it that way TWICE (both times when my attention was fully devoted to the task of numbering hundreds of headings) you can be fairly confident that it’s correct, and considering I’m going to have to go over it with a fine toothed comb to catch all the errors YOU introduce, it really doesn’t matter anyway.
So, to the designer: I spent two days fixing errors that YOU introduced to a document that YOU delivered a week and a half late, screwing up our timeline. For the love of god do not call me up in the middle of a mind numbing task which YOU have made more mind-numbingly difficult, in order to clarify what was a VERY CLEAR instruction, and potentially confuse everything even more.
To the editor: Section 2.5.3 is not Section 2.7. I understand that it might make it clearer in your mind to call it that, but it is not your fucking document so please do not act all irritated when I call you for clarification and remind you that it is, indeed, section 2.5.3. There is no section 2.7, regardless of your imaginings.
Confusing? Yes. I know. That’s why you should carefully follow the clear instructions that you were given instead of making shit up as you go.
I am going to be so glad when this is done.
Ooh, I’m tempted!
Can you put the pictures you have online somewhere?
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of sheep in a parade.
“Coming up next…Captain Woolley and His Perambulating Ovines!”
The festival was called the Trailing of the Sheep. This is why the sheep. I’ll try to get up pictures later. This used to be a huge sheep-producing area, apparently, and there are still a number of the idiotic critters around. So there’s a small (no matter what the longer-time people here think, it’s small, but that’s all right) sheep festival every year. I did find the nicest wool felt purse. There’s a lot to be said for wool.
Fuck you to bad parents. I’m on the very fringes of an ongoing saga of a truly fucked-up family and there’s a kid’s mother I’d love to throttle.
Shoot, the edit window ran out – I’m not related to the fucked-up family. I’m mostly just hearing about it. My family may be fucked up, as all are in some ways, but nothing like as bad as the ones I’m pitting.
Fuck the fact that I CANNOT control my portions, no matter how mutherfucking hard I try. Food is such a goddamn drug for me that it and it alone keeps me from being healthy, because as soon as I overeat, I give up on myself and discontinue my however-many-day streak of going to the gym. Every time I eat it’s a self-hate glut-fest, and even if it’s not really a glut-fest (realistically I only overeat 30% of the time), eating is a constant punishment for me. I love to cook, I love to eat, but I can’t lose weight by being smart about it. I’m a professional giver-upper. Fuck me!
You’re married and I’m living with my boyfriend. Stop hitting on me! No, I would not like to “go back and fool around”. I told you earlier that I’m faithful and happy, right? So leave me alone, already! Yeesh.
Folks, please. Don’t call on the weekends (when I’m not working and have never worked), leave a message, then call back an hour later to yell at my voicemail. The general tone was that I was around, heard the first message, and decided to be a jerk and ignore your questions. On top of that, the work you’re asking about is scheduled to be done a month from now. A month! Christ, I could’ve ignored your voicemail for a week and you’d still have plenty of time to decide when you need to wake up.
Cow parade.
See here. The whole thing explained. Except for why the parade was sooooooooo slow.
A minirant thread or two or three ago, I ranted about the cost of my dental work. I sucked it up anyways, and paid the full uncovered amount, figuring to do things now would be cheaper and less painful than letting it go another 8 years.
Today, though, I got the EOBs from my insurance company and realized I had been overbilled by about $85 over two different appointments. I could see a mistake being made on one appointment, but two separate ones just reeks of funny business to me. I picked this dentist because I knew him to be the son of our old family GP, hoping he’d be as trustworthy and caring as his old man. Turns out his business is shady and he’s a fraudulent git. Either that or the billing lady is not so bright. Either way, an establishment I won’t be revisiting.
Another TV-related rant.
WTF is it with all these shows running two minutes past the hour, so that every show after it for the rest of the evening gets rescheduled to run from X:02 to Y:02, so that my DVR can’t record the beginning/ending of some shows because now they overlap?
Thanks! That helped bunches. Also, thanks to SnakesCatLady for her email about RLS.
Motherfucking websites that play uninvited sounds when I go to you!
First it was myspace and screaming banner ads. Now there are embedded videos that start without any instruction from me. Some of us listen to music on our computers and don’t like to be interrupted without warning from some POS link.
And the least mini part of this whole fucking rant is that I think someone has ranted about this in every fucking mini-rant thread since websites HAD sound, and yet web designers keep fucking doing it anyway. Well listen up web designers. I do not look at your websites. I close them as soon as I hear the uninvited sounds coming from my speakers and interfering with my LTJ Bukem.
Honestly, does everyone but me surf the net without listening to music from their computers, waiting for some website to fill the silence?
I pay good money to get a shitload of texts a month.
So why the fuck does it cost so much more to send them across the ocean? I was just trying to keep in touch cheaply with my bff who went over to Hungary for a wedding. I may as well have just called her! (Or maybe not, but argh!)
And the picture texts! Fifty cents a pixture message! I just wanted to send some pics to my lover, I didn’t think it would cost THAT much! And that one wasn’t even out of the country!
My bill is about 30 dollars more than it usually is!
Fuck you insomnia! I am so fucking pissed off that I am sitting at my desk having only had one - read it ONE - hour of sleep. My day has started with me wanting to strangle the nearest person and it’s only going to go downhill from here.
And fuck you Nytol for not making me go to sleep - you useless “herbal” remedy. Next time I’ll just take morphine and be done with it.