Clothing manufacturers, will you STOP discontinuing the pants I like right after I buy my first pair or two. Lucky Brand, I’m looking at you: First I buy two pairs of jeans, then I ruined one pair with a splatter of bleach. Next thing I know, they’re discontinued. Then I got a couple of pairs of cords, like these, only they’re cords. The dark ones are perfect for the office. And now they’ve stopped selling them also.
I learned a new, irritating behaviour that large crowds of people do today. We went to the Royal Tyrrell Museum of really cool dinosaurs today (along with about 20,000 other people), and while I understand wanting to take pictures, you have to realize that when the museum is packed full of people, you can’t take picture after picture of your family in front of the T. Rex while everyone waits for you so they don’t get in your shot (at exhibit after exhibit). Snap and move, snap and move; there ya go.
I like Cute Overload and all, but Megan Frost needs to knock it off with the “cute” spellings. I present some of the more recent captions to illustrate:
Please, Megan Frost. For the love of all that is good about the English language. Just stop. Post pictures and have a nice hot mug of STFU.
I got in to work this morning (after the long weekend) and found my coffee mug full of cold coffee.
So sometime on Friday I went to get a coffee and promptly forgot all about it.
I still have no recollection of it. Did I go all of Friday with no coffee? Or was this a second cup that I forgot about? How could I forget about a full mug of delicious hot coffee?
I’m totally perplexed. This is going to bug me all day.
Right before lunch, I asked a coworker a question about an address on a list one of our clients gave us. She asked me for the names and I gave them to her. They sounded rather Indian or, perhaps Pakistani. Just now, she came up to me and said, “With names like that, you have to wonder.” No, I don’t. You see, unlike my sometimes nasty, narrow-minded coworker, I don’t automatically suspect those who are foreign or different of being up to nefarious activity. Among other things, for far too long, I was the one who was foreign and different and, technically, I still am. I don’t like prejudice. I’m too familiar with it’s effects. I told my coworker I had a toothache and preferred not to think about such things.
On a related note, I do wish the local paper had had more about the car bombs in London and Glasgow and less on the disabled dachsund who had a wheeled cart constructed so he could compete in a race. I swear I’ve got better information here than from the newspaper!
Finally, I got a sore, wobbly tooth and I can’t get a dentist appointment until Friday. Hang it, it hurts to chew or bite!! Argh!
That’s what it says on weather.com for my zip code. It’s 106 and it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like goddamned 98, it feels like 112. Who comes up with this shit? I want to grab whoever it is by the nostrils and drag them into my backyard. What does it feel like now, asshole?
At least it’s a cool 87 in my house.
AARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHH FUCKKKKK anyone who manufactures things with detachable BUT proprietary power cables. Power cables will get lost. I should be able to replace the cable with a generic cable like you can pick up at Radio Shack, the kind that I have about 20 extras of lying around. But NOOOO, this one is MAGICAL. Not only do I have to order a replacement, but it’s $55!!!
:mad: :mad: :mad: :mad: :mad: :mad: :mad: :mad:
This one is for the buttmunch that was sitting next to me at the movie last night.
About an hour into the movie I guess he had enough popcorn and decided to chew on his fingernail.
Then he stuffs his finger into his mouth and gnaws on the nail bed for a while.
The he grabs his finger with his other hand to twist it into a more convenient position to munch on for a while.
Break for 3 minutes. Repeat.
In his defense, he did stop when I asked him to after 15 minutes.
Dammit, why do you use the last of the toilet paper and not put in the new roll? It’s not like you have to look for it. If you reach down. . . just a little more. . . there you are. See, right within reach. It’s right within reach because I’ve been left paperless before, with it out of reach, jerk.
Now, about taking the last of the ice cubes and not only not refilling the tray, but leaving the tray in place to hide the fact that the ice is all gone. . .
And while we’re at it, can y’all agree on what sizes mean??? I mean, 40 should be 40 should be 40. I should’t have to buy a 36 in one brand and a 42 in another for the same goddamned waist.
Same goes for shoe makers. It seems my feet have grown 2 sizes wider and 3 sizes longer since I was 30. That, or you’re playing fast and loose with what you’re calling a size 11.
Sig line! 
Accepted onto a PhD programme at Edinburgh. No funding.
Accepted onto a PhD programme at Cambridge. No funding.
These are two of the richest universities in the country (in Cambridge’s case, the richest), yet there’s no fucking funding for postgraduate study!?! In Edinburgh’s case, there was a single EPSRC studentship in one of their (if not the) premier research groups. Cambridge allotted funding without knowing my degree result (a first from the best department in the country). WTF?
This country is fucking shit. There’s fucking studenships if you’re Chinese. There’s studentships if you’re disabled. There’s studentships if you’re married. There’s studentships for everyone apart from British folk. THERE’S NO STUDENTSHIPS FOR THE KIDS OF FOLK WHO SUPPORT THE DAMNED UNIVERSITIES THROUGH THEIR TAXES. ARGH.
:mad: :mad: :mad:
Well, mine sure sounds mini after that, Dominic. I just want all the crows in my neighbourhood to shut the hell up.
I think I see a solution for you and one other lucky degree-seeker!
One can pit oneself in mini-rants, yes? I’m a fucking moron. No, really, TRULY DUMB. I have to email my advisor a complete draft of my Masters thesis by the end of July. So why haven’t I worked on it at all for the past month and a bit? I don’t know!
It’s not as if I’ve been having a fantastic time, gallivanting around and partying. Mostly I’ve been sitting in a café, staring at my books and refreshing the boards one more time.
Write the damn thesis, Lauren!
Hey, Lauren! Write the damn thesis!
Did that help at all?
Give it up, Lauren. You’re a loser, destined to sit in cafes all day and pad your post count.
Loser.
Loser.
Loser.
(Now, have I made you mad enough to get your damn thesis done? Jeez, girl, do you need an advisor to come slap you upside the head?)
Good luck on the damn thesis.
Maybe changing your name to Wang and walk with a limp might help.
Sorry about your troubles and frustrations and it makes my vent in A-flat about those stupid earphone thingies pathetic and minor compared to yours.
It’s the waiting that gets me. The interview felt good, but having to wait until they discuss my salary request and interview other candidates makes me nervy.
Hurry up and call me back, ogdamnit!