The task is simple. We take you outside before going to bed so that you can do your business in the yard instead of in the living room. You have two priorities: to urinate and/or deficate. It is NOT your priority to leisurely walk around the entire motherfucking front yard, smelling each individual god damned blade of grass as if each one was a bloody perfume sample stick and you’re the Senior Testing Bitch of Research and Development for Eau De Turf.
You do not need to find the exact same spot where you went pee that afternoon. You do not need to find the spot exactly 2 feet south-southeast of where you went pee that afteroon. You do not need to find the last remaining pristine 4 square inches that have not yet been peed or pooped on.
Maybe, just maybe I’d acknowlege and accept one of these preferences if you didn’t rotate through each TOTALLY FUCKING ANNOYING PSYCHOSIS randomly, depending on what color boxers the Governer of Georgia decided to wear that day.
My baby has an immune issue (which he’ll most likely grow out of) and he catches every single freaking cold that comes his way. He’s been hospitalised three times in his 6 months with bronchiolitis. Whether he’s in his stroller or his sling, people seem unable to restrain they’re grubby fingers. I’ve gotten accustomed to moving the stroller out of their way or turning away out of their range if he’s in my arms, but WHY CAN’T THEY ASK??? They just reach for him. One little kid walked up to him and I said, “Don’t touch, please, bub.” She didn’t and just smiled at him. Her mother responds with, “Oh, it’s okay, just touch his hands or feet.” No!
Not to mention our friends who know his issues and still have no thought for keeping him healthy. A friend (Friend1) of mine was tickling his feet and stroking his cheek. Ten minutes later, another friend came up. She’s from Europe and does the whole cheek-kissing thing. As she approached Friend1, Friend1 says, “Oh, better not kiss me…I have a cold.” Well, then why the HELL were you anywhere near my baby!!!
Good grief. I’d keep him inside with the doors locked if I could, but I have another kid who doesn’t deserve to be quarantined. I just wish people would ask before they touch any baby and CERTAINLY don’t touch a baby (or anyone!) if you’re SICK!!! :mad: :mad:
You made me just choke on my Vanilla Frosty, causing the rest to land on the floor. Why, oh dear Og, WHY must you be funny enough to come up with Eau de Turf?
Oh, and I pit the rotten corksuckers that decide to park so close to me I have to wait for them to get their own Vanilla Frosty and leave before I can get back in.
I didn’t identify the customer. Why? Because she’s a mobile phone customer, I’m an internet rep. I don’t have the systems to identify the customer. At the beginning of the call, I told you i didn’t identify the customer and you’d have to do an ID check. WHY THE HELL do you need to do an ID check on me? I haven’t asked any customer details, I haven’t given you anything apart from the customer’s name and the mobile phone number she gave me. I’m doing a transfer and just had the niceness to call the internal number and introduce the call instead of dumping her onto you cold. Piss off you need my employee ID - You don’t. SLAs say you only need to ID me when I’m asking you to do something and not transferring the customer, or if I’m transferring the customer and notifying you that I’ve already done an ID check. If it hasn’t been done, do it yourself and stop bothering me.
:smack: How the hell did I forget that one? What can I say; I’m a newcomer, I’ve only lived here ELEVEN years!
For my mini rant: If you live outside the contiguous US, you have to pay the shipping on your damn order! How do you not know that Outside the Contiguous US = YOU? We are not giving you free shipping to Hawaii. No, not even if you throw a fit, asshat.
They just did the same thing for my company softball game. I suppose I can understand how a bulk order for one size is cheaper than splitting it up, but what genius decided that the one size should be the one that fits almost nobody? Anyway, nobody over 6’6" and 300 pounds turned up to play softball, maybe if we make it sumo next year.
Me? I pit the State of New York Mortgage Agency for dragging out what’s supposed to be a 2-week approval process past 2 months into oblivion, making me back out of their frickin’ program and thereby losing 2 months of nice weather, during which I could have been doing necessary repairs instead of just spending more money on storage and countless telephone calls to clueless idiots who couldn’t tell me why it was taking them thousands of hours to essentially rubber-stamp a bank approval. Hire some help, dudes.
To the stupid bitch in traffic this morning: the guy you were tailgating slowed down so that you would get off his ass. It worked, so you got in behind me and followed so closely I could see your eye boogers. I then slowed down because you were making me nervous, and saw you throw up your hands in frustration. Here’s a clue: It’s not everyone else, it’s you!
Oh, and when you did get around me, not only did you cut me off so badly that I had to slam on brakes to avoid having you hit my front bumper, you then had the nerve to honk back at me when I tried to let you know that you were coming over on top of me. I saw you turn into the McDonald’s parking lot right after that. I can only hope that means that you were late getting to your job there.
Ooh, this reminds me of an ongoing and escalating peeve of mine - people who decide how big parking spaces should be, pull your heads out of your asses and look around. You see all those huge frickin’ vehicles driving around? Now look at your parking lot - the spaces are almost exactly the same width as most of those vehicles. I drive a Corolla, and I am having trouble getting my doors open when I am parked exactly in the middle of my space, because of the behemoths on either side of me that are actually parked correctly (and there’s the odd one that can actually be bothered to park between the lines), but THERE JUST ISN’T ROOM FOR THEM!!! ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!
And this problem is getting worse, not better. You’d think it would just be the older parking lots with this problem, but no, parking lots with brand new painted lines are just as out of touch. You know what’s better than having 30 spots in your parking lot? Having 25 spots that people can actually use.
3 or 4 months ago someone who works where I work was found to have TB. I work in a building thats open 24/7 365 and has about 600 employees (I’m a directory assistance operator). The health department decides to just test about 30 people who were thought to be the ones that were around this person the most. At least one of these people test positive and they decide to test everyone.
The first half get tested about a month after the other postives and the second half will get tested on the 25th 2 weeks later. Some of the first half had a positive tb test and were told “we will contact you in 4 weeks, if we don’t call you then you call us” so they are working still and possibly exposing others to it instead of immediately being sent for further tests to find out if they have contagious tb or just have it in their system.
They are screwing around so much that by the time everyone is tested some of the ones that tested negative may have gotten enough additional exposure to make them positive. If you can’t test everyone on the same day, test the rest the next day not 2 weeks later. And if it’s serious enough that everyone needs tested why the hell are you waiting so long to confirm if the people with positives have it or just had a false positive?
To my husband. Yes, you with the stomach problems. Yes, you with the Type II diabetes. Yes, you over 5 years of age.
Eat a damn meal without me having to tell you to, okay? In the far more likely case, however, that you forget to eat a damn meal even though you had several otherwise unoccupied hours before we went to the dog beach yesterday because, silly me, I thought you were a rational adult who would know to eat a damn meal, don’t start yelling at me because you feel sick and have a headache. I am not the one who forgot to eat a damn meal, and I’m sick of having to tell a grown man to eat something!
Quit bitching about the thermostat! I’m sick and fucking tired that a group of grown women can’t get their shit together enough to come to an agreement over something as trivial as the ambient temperature of the office! Am I going to have to put a lockbox on the fucking thing? Like a child lock on the cabinet to keep toddlers out of the cleaning supplies?
Seriously, stop being so goddamned narcissistic and assume that the temperature has to perfect for you, right now. Keep a sweater at your desk. Put it on if you’re cold; take it off if you’re hot.
TPTB cite all kinds of high-minded rhetoric about keeping everyone honest and accountable for the stupid stuff they post, but I suspect the real reason is because the syntactical gaffes provide so much amusement, and it would be heartless to deprive latecomers the opportunity to see such gems.
Good enough for me. I’m still something of a newbie here, but most Dopers strike me as too intelligent to hold someone’s feet to the fire for typos or minor grammatical mistakes anyway.
Real stupidity can’t be edited away no matter what.
To the syphilitic, hollow-chested monkey fucker who stole the CD wallet out of my car: DAMN YOU TO HELL. Why did you even do it? You’re not going to be able to sell them for anything, because you don’t have the cases or the booklets - only the CDs themselves. Nor are you most likely going to enjoy them yourself, because the kind of music I listen to is statistically unlikely to appeal to someone who steals CDs and fucks monkeys.
One of the CDs in my wallet was “Mood Indigo” by Frank Morgan, an out-of-print CD that I had to search for for ages and then pay way too much for when I finally found it. DAMN YOU for making me go through that again!
Worst of all, you gave Mrs. Chef a clear shot to add insult to injury by reminding me that she TOLD me not to leave my car unlocked all the time. Never mind that if I HAD locked it, you would have just smashed the window and then I’d have even more to rant about.
I hope the next monkey you fuck laughs at your hollow chest and then gives you the monkey clap to go with the syphilis.
