You know, the more I read that thread, the more I agree with you. There is a lot of ass showing in that thread.
I pit Intelligent Design people (I’m looking at you Connie Smug-face from Kansas). Last night TheElf and I watched 2 separate PBS shows about the debates in Dover, Penn. and in Kansas. 99.9% of crackpot puesdo-science theories are funny and make me laugh, but ID angers me more that it probably should. (Cue Madeline Kahn: "I hated her, so much… it-it- the f - it -flam - flames. Flames, on the side of my face, breathing-breathl- heaving breaths. Heaving breath…)
TheElf had to soothe me by reminding me that all of the evil school board people in KS had been ousted years ago. But I remember… I remember…
For the last time ever, I’m pitting my mother-in-law.
Woman, when you write to me to tell me how you’ve been where I’ve been but that your pain is so much worse than mine because he was your son and you “carried him next to your heart” for nine months, how can you turn around and be shocked that I don’t answer?
The only good thing about your son’s death is that I never, ever, ever have to speak to you again. How a loser bitch like you produced such a wonderful man is a question for the ages.
fuck Illustrator anyway.
I’m working on homework and inking some drawings I need done. First Illustrator decides not to allow pressure sensitive brushes. Grrr. I restart the computer. I’m doing good and I decide to save because, well, I’m not stupid. Then Illustrator decides, once again, no pressure sensitive! Dammit! I’m really glad my computer doesn’t take a long time to start up.
Is it incredibly petty and insignificant for me to be disappointed that no one sent me any flowers when I was in for my surgery?
It looks like you’re taking the high road (and good for you), but I’d be tempted to send her back something like, “You know, grief is not a contest.” My God but that woman must be clueless! I’m sorry that someone who should be a source of support and comfort is making your hard time even worse. 
I pit the murderous thieving bastards who killed Suzi. A 5-pound lap dog. Rot in hell. I don’t have any weapons, but cast an eye on my dogs and you will find out what I can do with a table lamp and a dictionary.
No, it’s not.
Holding a grudge about it might be petty, but being a little disappointed sounds like a reasonable reaction to me.
I’m very satisfied with the prompt and efficient way that AT&T send me the modem for my new DSL service, and the ease of installing same. It even came with free AT&T Security Suite, which I decided to install to see if it works any better that the various freeware that I’ve been using. As part of the installation process, I was told that I had to uninstall AVG because it would conflict with AT&T’s program. However, after I did so, the rest of the installation process hit a dead end when it refused to acknowledge my user ID and password. An hour with an otherwise very helpful service tech did not resolve the problem and she had to write up a trouble ticket. Until I get a response, which she said could take up to 72 hours, my system is without antivirus protection.
I’m really tired of shocking myself whenever I get out of my car.
Well, put your pants back on and quit getting out beside reflective stuff. Sheesh, do I have to solve everything around here?
I’m glad I’m not the only one whose mind went thattaway.
It’s good to know that there are so many people here in the gutter.
Well, you know what they say - a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.
I HATE the word “rubric.” It sets my teeth on edge, and I have no idea how it became the academic buzzword du jour. I have come to hate the word “assessment” almost as much, although it’s not quite as horrible as “rubric” because at least there are non-jargony ways to use it.
I am rather annoyed at my department chair for placing me on a committee which will force me to use both of the Words of Evil.
God damn it.
First my LCD crapped out, so I switched back to my CRT. Then that’s just crapped out (admittedly about 6 months later, so not too bad).
Thank God hubby hasn’t set up his PC and I’ve been able to scavenge his monitor. But it’s all big and… Big. Things are big on it. It’s too big for me.
Turns out I’ve apparently grown an extra chin since I last went without beard. Oh well, I guess gluing the hair back on isn’t gonna cut it, so I’ll just have to wait till it regrows. Maybe I could hide the lower portion of my face with a cape, Dracula style, when I go out? I’ve always liked capes, but it might make for some awkward situations – “I am going to drink.… a coke light with this order, and no, don’t supersize it, thanks. How much will that be?”
Is it the rubric assessment committee?
:d&r:
Finally, I have located the fucking mini-rants thread.
Look, you fucking idiot bitch. Ever since you got here, you’ve been a fucking nightmare to work for. You can’t communicate for shit - every email you send results in a forty-seven way conference call with various pay grades and participants, or multiple meeting requests zipping through the ether just so we can all end up in a room with you going “I don’t understand how this miscommunication happened!” Maybe it’s because you have a brain the size of a fucking pea, and you’re in WAY over your head, and everybody knows it including you.
I’ve put up with the snide underhanded comments about my department, I’ve put up with the complete lack of understand that you have about faculty workload and responsibilities (interesting, since YOU CAME FROM FACULTY BEFORE YOU GOT YOUR MANAGEMENT DEGREE AND TURNED INTO A GODDAMN ADMINISTRATIVE DRONE), I’ve put up with your idiotic micromanaging.
But today is the last straw.
The amount of money involved, $250, might not be a great deal of money to you, and in the grand scheme of things, probably isn’t anything to get worked up over. But I submitted that reimbursement request to you for your signature ONE FUCKING MONTH AGO YOU PATHETIC OATMEAL-BRAINED CUNT, and you just today are getting the signed copy to accounts payable?
Fuck you, you diseased incompetent piece of shit, and I’m looking into the procedure for filing a formal complaint because I? have Had. It. with you and your ability to fake your way into your job.
I just got fucking rejected from my top-choice grad school which was easily the least fucking competitive school I applied to.
So looks like I’m not going to get a fucking master’s degree, which leaves me graduating in May with a fuckton of debt and a completely fucking useless degree and mediocre grades, because I’m a hopeless fucking idiot in every possible way. I have no practical skills, no job prospects, and basically no option but to be that fucking pathetic loser who has a college degree but stocks the shelves at WalMart and lives with shitty roommates in some shitty suburb somewhere because that’s the only way I can avoid being the even-more pathetic loser who graduates college and then moves back in with their parents because they’re too fucking incompetent to function as an adult.
And I’m pretty sure my senior thesis is going to be rejected by the committee, because somehow I manage to feign not being completely incompetent until it actually matters and then everything fucking falls apart.
In other words, fuck life. I think the best way for me to have a future would be to go feed myself to a fucking mountain lion.