NEW and IMPROVED Rants! Same Bitter Taste! Less Content!

A hearty fuck you to you The Printer and the Spawn of Satan who designed it so impossible to remove a torn piece of paper.
1 hour, an arsenal of various tools that have never failed me until now, and I cannot get the stupid bit of paper out of the final delivery chute part thingie.
I now cannot even turn the thing off because it is constantly asking me to retry or cancel the print. Yes, I suppose I could trace the cord back to the power source, but it would involved spiders and feral dust bunnies.
I have a zombie printer in my basement.

Someone shoot me.

Part Two:

A heartier fark up the bunghole with a rusty pike to the USPS and their teasing whorish ways.

Track and Confirm for priority mail packages sent hither and yon should allow receivers to watch with spaztic delight as their items wends its way from DogPatch to Outer Farking Mongolia. In the years that you buttheads have initiated this on line procedure, I have *never once * been able to see where my stuff is at and I hate you for ruining my girlish anticipation.

My printer still won’t turn off. Someone send reinforcements.

I just want to say that “Feral Dust Bunnies” would make an awesome band name.

I sent the reinforcements via USPS, should arrive… someday.

So in February I buy a new DVD burner. Made by Lite-On. I’ve never heard of that brand, the guy at the computer store assures me they’re reputable. There is an 800 number on the box for Customer Service/Tech Support. I buy it.

I use it maybe three or four times between Feb. and May. In June it refuses to spin. It won’t read anything plus it’s making a weird noise. I take it back to the computer store, they say I have to deal with Lite-On, but assure me that they are very easy to deal with.

I call the aforementioned 800 number. It’s a fuckin recording telling me what their real tech support number is, and no, the real tech support number is not a toll free number. This reeeeeeaaaaaly pisses me off because had they put the real tech support number on the box I would have thought harder about buying it. Companies without toll-free support numbers obviously don’t give two shits about customer service.

Plus, the hours for tech support are limited and they’re in the Pacific time zone, making them even more inconvenient. So I go to their web page and click on “contact us.” It brings up a form to send an email. I fill in the form and send it. The website says they will answer the email in two or three days. I sent it over a month ago. I still have not received a reply.

So after about 10 days I go back to the website because I remember there was an option to chat with a tech support person. I click that link and am informed that there are no tech support people online right now, please call our 800 number. After several days of this same BS I finally get a person. Except after a couple of exchanges I’m not sure I’m dealing with a real person because all this “person” keeps telling me is that I need to call customer service to get help with this problem.

So I finally break down and call the long distance number, where I am placed on hold for about 15 minutes. I finally get a person and she starts asking me for the model and serial numbers. I tell her that I am at work now and don’t have that information, but I sent it in the email and can she just find my email or get somebody to help me? No, she can’t do that and from her responses it becomes pretty obvious that even if they ever do answer the email they are just going to tell me to call.

So the next day I call again, armed with the model and serial numbers. She tells me that she will send it over to some other department that will process it and email me a super secret ninja code that will allow me to return the unit for a replacement. She says this email will arrive within a half hour. It does not arrive. I wait through the weekend and call back Monday. After another 15 minutes on hold I get the lady and she tells me that somebody screwed something up and she will fix it and send the email. This time, the email comes.

So I print out the form that explains how to return it, and it has about 10 different warnings that if I don’t do something exactly right, the return will be rejected. So I carefully follow every single instruction and send it back. Registered. With delivery confirmation.

I am thinking there is absolutely no way they are going to accept this return. They will find some piddly little reason to reject it, and I doubt they will ship the unit back, and that will be the end of it.


I shall be comforted when the reinforcements show up. Until then, I am trapped between spiders, FDB and a zombie printer.

I know I am getting a kharmic payback for copying an entire OoP knitting book that costs to much on Ebay to buy, so I got it from the library system to make my own…mwahahahahahahahahahahacoughCough**splutter

I collect stamps too.

and have a cat.
God, am I sexy!

A hearty “fuck you!” to the clothing manufacturers who think summer is over.

It’s JULY! I need a bathing suit, but so many stores are cleaned out. Sure, I can order online, but I already tried that - I ended up w/ a suit that was too big on top & too small on the bottom, even though I measured myself (correctly!) and bought the size recommended.

And I don’t want to spend $100 on one either, since I don’t use it that much.

A few months late, but these little drama queens/attention whores in the National Spelling Bee who ask the same series of questions on every fucking word, even ones they clearly already know. Here’s an idea- give the little bastards the derivation, origin, alternate spellings and pronunciations, for every fucking word at the beginning, before they ask, since you know they are gonna ask anyway, and let them audition for Conan somewhere else.

10pm curfew does not mean it’s okay to be screeching up and down the walkway at 1.30am. It means get your fucking ass to your apartment and SHUT UP.

Yesterday, I had to roll over my 401k. So I call. “Try our website!” says the recording. I’d love to, but I can’t. It won’t take my social and password. The same social and same password that I used to access the automated system. Explain that.
After 5 different menus, I get a Live Person! She can walk me through the automated system. She’s going to listen throughout and answer any questions. No, it would make too much sense for her to just process the rollover. Let’s take twice as much time using the automated line. Why not try the website?
After the endless disclaimers and tax notifications (Try our website!), we start. Hmm, they can’t verify my address. I ask the Live Person. She tells me to hold on, she’ll verify. She does, but I have to start the process all over again. Try the website!
After every possible word has been said about rollovers and taxes and distributions, we’re through. But I have to wait for a supervisor to approve the request, so I’m on hold. For 10 minutes. Listening to “Try our website!” over and over.

Fuck you to “Rescue Me” for being so goddamn compelling! I got home at 11.30pm, checked my mail, and saw the bright red netflix envelope and you just screamed “WATCH ME!”
So I did. Til 1.43am. Now I’m tired. Stupid show…you’re too good to resist.

I’d like to give a big, juicy ‘fuck you’ to the worthless festering evil fucknuggets at Bank of America. I pay my bills on-line, and every single month, without fail, the ‘due date’ for the payment falls on a Saturday or Sunday when they don’t actually accept payments electronically (unless you want to pay a $25 fee, and even then they still won’t PROCESS it until Monday anyway) so when they say ‘We must receive your payment by XX,’ they really mean 'we must receive your payment by day XX-2." What a load of stinking bullshit. Its just a scam designed to make people late with their payments.

I just got a Washigton Mutual card, first credit card I’ve had in years, as I hate the things, but it seems a neccessary evil to have one (In case I need to rent a car, or some such). I charged something and went to make a payment online, and I found that it is much more complex than the usual wamu bill pay system. What irritates me most, is that it insists on making me pick the day I would like the payment to process. There is no default day, and if you pick “today” you have to pay $25 extra. It is funny that when I use the regular bill pay system for all my other bills my account is sometimes debited the same day, but for their own credit card it won’t. Stupid scam.

My fucked up credit card company charges me $6 to pay online. What the fuck is that? That is the only bill I have to use a check to pay. I didn’t have a check book until I got the card late last year. I had to fucking buy checks just to pay my credit card bill.

To the divorcing couple who owned the house I just bought: May you die choking on weeds in a darkened, locked bedroom covered in garbage. You know, since that’s how you lived.

The two bedrooms upstairs had their doorknobs replaced with outside door hardware-- including locks that need keys. All the windows were covered in blinds and shades that do not raise or open. Both working doorbells removed from the front and side doors. No yard work in over two years because the yard is only good for stockpiling garbage in case nuclear winter came around and they would need a car battery, tires, a rusty weight set and bench, two of those gigantic highway buckets that hold either water or sand to soften the blow when you crash, metal pipes, rotting wood— you know, emergency supplies.

Every day we find new and disturbing evidence of how strange your lives must have been. My favorite is the drop ceiling you installed with two florescent light fixtures. We replaced the burned out florescent bulbs in the fixture where the lights were out-- only to find that the thing was not hooked up to a light box-- or anything else.

Wood panelling in the basement affixed to— nothing. There is nothing but the concrete of the basement wall behind it. And the little windows covered in brown paper bag.

What kind of creepy-assed, paranoid, dirty life did you two lead?

((Psst… Not to spoil your rant or anything, but sometimes, if you have a piece of cardstock paper, or just a really thick piece of paper, you can manually push it through the tray, and it will dislodge the little fragment. You might want to try that.))

Let’s try this again.

If your lane ends in construction 200 yards ahead, that doesn’t mean ride ass and jet to the end of the lane and try to pry your way in front of me. Do you see my car? Do you see what a piece of shit it is? Do you think I care if you ding my bent front fender?

So, go ahead and act like you’ll bump my dirty, dented, 14-years-old,* pushing-220,000-miles Jeep with that nice, new Altima. I’ve got the insurance. You haven’t got the balls. Fuck you and wait in line with the rest of us.

*That’s right! I was driving this car before that obnoxious little maggot in your backseat was born!

Wow - these people sound like a great story. More details!

Dear Mr. Rogers Windows

Nine months ago you came to our house and gave us an estimate for replacing all of our windows. We liked the quote, we liked the product, we haggleed a bit (more for forms sake than because we thought it was too expensive a quote), then signed the contract.

Two weeks later, your fine young gentlemen came to our house and quickly & efficiently replaced all of the windows in the house. There was a problem with one of them not locking correctly. You quickly sent out a technician who tried to fix it, couldn’t, so then ordered a brand new replacement window for it. A week later, two more of your fine young gentlemen quickly and efficiently replaced it, at no charge (or fuss, really) to us.

So why are you now sending me a discount coupon and calling three times a week to check to see if we want to replace (once again) every window in our house? Do you know something about the expected these windows that are less than a year old that you neglected to tell me nine months ago?

I don’t know any. All I know is that the house was for cheap. The husband was a cop (which explained all the guns and bullets in the basement) and the wife did social work and that they have a 4 year old son. It was only at the closing that me and my husband found out they were divorcing (all the signs were there, though. Like the husband’s bed and all his clothing shrewn around the basement).

We’ve been living in the house since the first and every day we find something else that makes us scratch our heads-- and that we gotta fix.

They left the brown paper because window treatments typically convey with the real estate. :wink:

Hmmm. Rather odd he would leave them there. A gun doesn’t seem like an item you’re likely to forget about when you’re moving.