It appears that the mini-rants has fallen off the first 3 pages, so here goes.
Why are people driving so damn slow? The speed limit is a conservative estimate of what speed it is safe to travel at. Why do you drive at 10mph slower than the speed limit. You are driving at 3 standard deviations below the average speed. You’re not an ancient senior citizen.
And you friggin’ weirdo, what is the deal riding on a 600cc rice rocket bike at 30mph in a 40mph zone? Hint: this is really really slow. Yeah, maybe it’s dangerous because it’s 75°F on a perfectly clear sunny day. Learn to ride your fucking bike in a parking lot. Triggering road rage is also pretty dangerous.
Fucking hell I hate listening to my on-the-road roommate eat chips. I can’t yell at the asshole to chew with his mouth closed either cause he’s my supervisor and kind of, well, an asshole. At least it distracts from his burping.
And no, I don’t know or care who won any of the 537 games over the weekend. Buy a fucking paper.
I’m in Houston where, as you may have heard, we’ve recently had a hurricane. Everybody has a brush pile in front of their house, waiting for heavy trash pickup. We got a letter on Saturday from the homeowner’s association informing us to separate the piles into brush, regular trash bags, and building materials like fence boards.
Our asshat neighbors decided to throw their fence boards on our brush pile! As well as drag their freakin’ bags of leaves and shit onto our sidewalk! (They used to be in front of their own house!) I guess they didn’t want to mess up their pristine lawn! The fuckin’ nerve of someone just throwing their trash in our yard!
I went to their house with the HOA letter in hand, and told the neighbor that we didn’t appreciate what they did, and that we had enough trash of our own, thank you very much! They moved their stuff.
So I met a guy. He asked for my number. We went to breakfast after a night of dancing. He called me the next day (well, the same day). We have plans to go out with a group of friends this Friday.
Why do I want to call him? Why do I want to see him before Friday? I can’t wait a week? I always do this - meet some guy, get all excited and hopeful. Why can’t I just be relaxed and calm about it, let things happen as they happen. Bleh.
I’m tired of buying stuff online that the vendor claims is ‘in stock!’, only to find out later, when the box arrives, that half of the order wasn’t ‘in stock!’. Bastards.
This morning, a typically foggy Monday morning in which I had slept unusually poorly after having an unsavory dream wherein I was hiding beind a lawnmower from a homicidal maniac wielding a pile of chalk, a seperatory funnel, and two white resin rocking chairs purchased from e-bay (not that unusually, come to think of it, I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately), I actually remembered my promise to bring in my DVD copy of The Holy Grail for a young coworker who has somehow managed to reach the age of 23 without ever seeing the film.
Only I can’t find it anywhere.
Even the VHS copy is missing (but I may have tossed that version).
I may have loaned it to someone else, but I can’t recall. Which means if I break down and buy it again, it will turn up and that will be $15 wasted. And I’m tight with the $15, as can be seen by my “Guest” status. (not that I can’t afford the $15, it’s the fact that I shouldn’t HAVE to buy a DVD I already theoretically have).
I bought vanilla soy milk when I was out instead of regular, and oh my God is that stuff vile. I drink regular soy milk for the phytoestrogens, not for the taste, but it’s at least tolerable. This vanilla stuff is bland, insipid, slightly sweet ass (it’s quite the feat to be both bland and awful tasting - I’m not sure how it accomplishes it). (Where’s the vomiting smiley?)
I painted half the basement yesterday, and I’m very sore today. Why do my muscles allow me to do more than they can stand?
I work in a law office in the middle of a mid-sized city. There are restaurants in every direction. Nonetheless, some genius decided to bring in new vending machines with “real” food in them, including:
Breakfast Platter --Scrambled Eggs, Breakfast Sausage & Home Fries
Grilled Cheese on Country White
Native American Chop Suey Made with Turkey Meat
All Beef Burger with sautéed onions and Swiss cheese
Fried Haddock w/cheese and tartar sauce
Grilled bacon & cheese
Spaghetti & Meatballs w/marinara sauce
I can understand this if an office is in an industrial park or some place that DOESN’T have easily accessible restaurants. But we do. The thought of eating a grilled cheese from a vending machine makes me want to hurl. The thought of eating any of these items FROM A VENDING MACHINE makes me want to hurl. This belongs in an episode of The Office…
Oh man. I once worked at a company that was located in an industrial park in the middle of nowhere … and what’s worse, I worked in the warehouse on the night shift – double nothing to eat anywhere. We too had a vending machine of these “meals” all wrapped up in plastic on a styrofoam plate, sitting in that machine for a week before someone ate something (presumably on a bet).
I still have nightmare about the cheeseburger I ate half of one time there. Eeesh!
That’s just…inconceivable. I’ll eat a chocolate bar or a coke from a vending machine, but chop suey? Not in this lifetime. I don’t even want to know what they do to the food so it can keep in a vending machine.
Grrrr.
My day didn’t get any better. I have a rule of thumb that if one’s morning sucks major hairy donkey nuts, the rest of the day is bound to be better, even if it’s just better in comparison and not necessarily “Wow! What a great day this turned out to be after all!” Today broke my rule.
I had a midwife appointment at 6:00 for a pap. Woot! Just what all women spend their year in giddy anticipation of! Speculum reaming!
But this was no ordinary appointment. I called in a month in advance of when the annual appointment was due, with a month or two of fudge room left in my birth control scrip as a cushion. Only all the appointments were booked. For the next four months. And they weren’t scheduling any further out from that. WTF?!
Um, okay. So I got put on a waiting list for cancellations. And after turning down one appointment, accepted this one, and rearranged my schedule to accommodate it.
Just as I was attempting to wrap up work, I had a major instrument malfunction. Okay, scrap that analysis. I’ll let the reaction run overnight. I leave an hour early for what usually takes 30 minutes *with *traffic.
But not abnormal traffic. I just got on a major highway to learn via a too-little-too-late traffic report that there were miles and miles of backup due to an accident.
I exited the nearest ramp and took the back way across town. Which took fucking forever. I heart Pittsburgh.
I arrived 10 minutes late for the appointment. They allot 30 minutes for annuals. Mine never take more than 15 (I’m exceptionally reproductively normal) They were unwilling to do the appointment. Would I care to reschedule?
RESCHEDULE HOW?!?!?!?!?!?! They are BOOKED.
Oh yeah.
Well, they can do a blood pressure check to make sure I’m not reacting abnormally to a medication I’ve been on for the past 10 fucking years, not counting the couple I was knocked up for. Fine. At least it buys me more pills until I can get another appointment when they deign to open the schedule books again.
The midwife looks pointedly at me and tells me she’s can’t very well do a full exam with “pregnant mothers and babies waiting.” Apparently because I am no longer pregnant, the office that promotes its availability of “well women visits” considers me below toe jam. Note that at no point did I insist that they throw off their schedule just for little old late me. Silly me who sits in traffic for the FUN OF IT. I made pleasant placating understanding small talk.
Gee, big surprise my blood pressure is much higher than normal.
Then the off-handed disapproving comment that was the icing on the cake, “If it were me I would have just phoned in and canceled the appointment and gone home.”
Just because half the fucking world has a cellphone surgically attached to their ear and/or crammed up their ass at all given times does not mean I carry one.
Yes, I am a freak. I DO NOT CARRY A CELL PHONE. Apparently this is inconveniencing the rest of the world.
Fuck you, world.