New Minirants! Now with Zesty Filling!

The BBQ Pit
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General Family Rants:

Blue is a color. It has no meaning on its own, just what we give it. I *like * blue. Yes, I’m having a girl. She’s not out of the womb and telling me her preferences, so I’m following my tastes. No fucking pink! Keep in mind that I’m having a baby, an infant, she won’t care what color the sheets are and her clothes will be full-body drool rags.

Also, the baby will sleep in the spare bedroom/office. It won’t hurt her to be in the same room as a computer and a couple of book selves. We rent this place so there is no “decorating the nursery.” We’ll put the crib together, find an inexpensive dresser, and that’s it. Yes, a rocking chair is a nice idea, but where would we put it? Billions of kids are born with next to nothing and survive just fine.

Mother:
Don’t call me asking where my brother is. He lives 2 hours away from me! We don’t speak very often because one, he works nights and I work days, and two, we don’t have a lot in common.

(After I told Mouse_Spouse about this conversation last night, he said “Wow, you’re mom is a dim bulb.” “Not even that. She’d have to have a bulb in the socket to begin with.”)

Also, stop asking to come and use our washing and dryer. You had god-damned BED BUGS in your apartment! You are not coming anywhere near my home.

Pharmacy Clerk:
Fucking pay attention! Its not a good idea to say “Wow, you look really down” to someone picking up a refill of antidepressents.

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Yes! Mom and step-dad, quit asking me if I’ve talked to my brother lately, what he is up to, how he is, etc. I don’t talk to him at all. I’ve told you this…I do not talk to him. Indeed, you should know we don’t speak as the last time I saw him was at your house 3 years ago and we didn’t talk to each other the entire time.

If you want to know what his going on in his life, I suggest you pick up the phone and call him. Or go visit. Or write him a letter. But don’t call me and ask what’s up with him because I don’t know and I don’t care. He’s your son–you maintain a relationship with him.

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Lauren! Get back to work! I want to see one more page by the end of this day, young lady, or no ice cream for dessert.

Great, now I’m hungry for ice cream at 11 in the morning.

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I’m not a man! No, really, I’m not. I promise. You can trust me… I’d know if I were.

Is this a manly face? 'Cause I don’t think so. Plus I have big breasts, and I’m just curvy in general, so please stop refering to me as “him” “he” and “sir”. Yes I have a job that’s mainly done by men. No, my work uniform is not particularly flattering, but I look nothing like a man. Stop it!

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Thorny Platypus not only do you look like my sister but I think you live in the same city. Ever been to Magoos? She used to work there.

Co-worker: I know you are having a lot of problems with your husband right now. The DUI/totalling the car was stupid stupid stupid.

But even before then, even when he was your boyfriend/fiance…don’t talk to/about him like he’s a child. You’ve lived with him for years, you knew how he was. You bought a house together, which you wanted. And you explained to him, condescendingly, that “if we have a nice house and nice things, you need to grow up a bit.”

If I lived in a house where someone talked to me like that, I wouldn’t see much incentive to act like a grownup. All I’m saying.

(I’m not expressing it very well, but it really bugs me how she talks to/about him. He’s not a friend - I’ve met him once - but if you marry someone you should not expect to change them.)

366

Fucking text message voting on TV. $.99 per message with a chance to win $10k (or in the case of Big Brother, NOTHING). That’s nothing but a HUGE payoff to the company running it. Get millions of dollars, give away 10k. Who are these people that even respond?

If you agree, text VOTE to 666. If you disagree, text DUMBASS to 666. $.99 per text message. Standard text messaging rates apply.

367

Yay, minirants! God knows I need one.

I ordered a slew of books from Amazon at the beginning of last month…special interest books that apparently only a big nerdy weirdo like myself has any interest in, so they told me up front that it would be mid-July before I saw any of them. Well, the other day one shipped! O frabjous day, I’m so excited! And yesterday I arrived home to find a “We missed you, left your package at the office” slip from UPS. Squee! A new book waiting for me at the office! One I’ve been anticipating for some time, because before I even went to Amazon I went to every flipping bookstore in town to check that they didn’t have it by chance.

Husband calls a few minutes ago and informs me that the office fucking refused delivery of my fucking book!!! Landlady says there was a form enclosed with the July complex newsletter which we never signed which is A. Bullshit, and B. Stupid. There was no form, I have no idea what form she could possibly be talking about, and if there was a form and we hadn’t signed it yet that is beside the point because the newsletter came out about four days ago and she’s ALREADY REFUSING PACKAGES??? That’s…that’s just… head explodes

Husband has now filled out this almighty important mysterious Form, but I have no idea if UPS is going to bother to try again, the tracking information on their website just says “Attempted delivery, recipient not home”, and I am so unreasonably furious with the stupid management of my crappy apartment complex that I can’t even get any work done, I’m just sitting here fuming. The pool has no water in it, the office is refusing packages, it took them TWO YEARS to rebuild the carports after they collapsed in a snowstorm, but it’s still perfectly okay to hike our rent by $20 or so every six months to improve our “community”, right?!

I want my book.

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This asshole pregnancy test manufacturer better have made some faulty goddamn tests because there is no way in hell I am pregnant right now with an IUD in. Those are two damn tests from yesterday with a blue f-ing line right where the positive line should be. My midwives’ office laughed when I called. So did I. Because this MUST be a freakin’ joke. Two children 19 months apart is NOT what we had planned.

That blood test better come back negative. Otherwise, someone’s getting their ass kicked. I don’t even care who. I’ll pick some Joe Blow off the street.

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Never heard of it, but at least you’re reminded of a female. That’s good :slight_smile:

Got another one, that’s actually been bothering me since I started this job 5 months ago:

Look, folks, is it so hard to tie your garbage bags shut? If you’re having problems I’ll come show you, okay? I also realize our compactor is broken again, and it’s frequently broken, but while it may annoy you once or twice a week (and really you just dump your trash in front of it anyway), it takes a lot of time out of my day, EVERY DAY. You could make my job a lot easier if you’d take 10 seconds to tie your fucking bags shut, but no… you can’t do that. You’d rather drop your open bags and let loose garbage fall out everywhere for ME to clean up, EVERY DAY.

Oh and when our compactor does work (we notify you anytime it’s broken, plus give you alternatives when it is… it isn’t hard to figure out if it’s working), put your trash inside, eh? Open the fucking door and put it in there, shut the door, then kindly hit the start button. It’s big and green, you can’t miss it. See when you decide to be a lazy shit and just set your (open) bags on the ground, other fools walk up and think “oh trash on the ground, it must be broken”. Next thing I know I’ve got a mountain of garbage to deal with, when the compactor was working the whole time!

Open door! Put trash inside! Close door! START!

I’m tired of having a thick layer of trash stuck to the bottom of my boots. I’m tired of having to wade through piles of crap and clean it up every day. It usually doesn’t piss me off too much, but it is a daily annoyance and I just don’t get why it’s got to be so difficult…

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To the “assistant pastor” at the hospital yesterday: when you have taken it upon yourself to visit hospitalized people who are not members of your congregation, simply because her boss is a member of your congregation, here are some handy tips.

  1. When the person sitting in the room with the sleeping patient tells you that the patient has just fallen asleep and needs to sleep because she didn’t sleep last night, that does not mean to keep talking at an ever-increasing volume until you do indeed wake the patient.

  2. When you hurry over to spread your “good cheer” on a woman who has just been awakened, after recently being diagnosed with ovarian cancer and starting chemo, you do not say “have they told you how long you have left, dear?” You don’t even know this woman, you sanctimonious asshole.

  3. When she tries to tell you that she is a member of another church and is receiving counseling from her pastor, do not keep repeating “With the end so near I know you will want to make your peace with God”.

  4. When your head pastor returns from his out-of-town vacation, be prepared to explain to him why your clergy priviledges at a local hospital have been revoked.

My friend has not had even a full week to deal with the emotional ramifications of being diagnosed with cancer. She just completed her first chemo treatment and it is kicking her ass, but she is determined to fight this killer and come out on top. And you bring your smarmy ass in her room, without an invitation or so much as a tap on the door, and start trying to “prepare [her] for the hereafter”. You need some education in right now, you jerkoff, and you had better get on your knees and thank your God that I wasn’t in that room when you pulled that bullshit, because I am not as nice as my friends are. One sight of the tears on my friends face was enough for me to take your fucking business card to the administration office and file a complaint. If I had been there I would now be in jail because I would have physically have thrown you out of that room.

I hope you rot in the hell you have invented for yourself, you asshole. Save the “saving” for those who want your services.

371

Holy fucking shit. Brother Mongoloid’s first name must be Balaam for he excels at talking out of his ass.

That guy needs to be reported to the hospital and to the church, both while having his ass kicked, and should be banned from visiting ANY patient. (And ovarian cancer is NOT an automatic death sentence or anything like; in fact if treated before it leaves the ovaries it has an excellent survival rate, something like 94%/5 years.)

372

That’s horrible beyond words. I hope someone helps that “assistant pastor” to see the harm that he’s causing. Wow.

373

Very, very petty after SCL’s (and that one made my mouth go :eek: )

But goddamnit supermarket, why do you not have orange essence? You’ve got rosewater essence, coconut, peppermint, almond, vanilla - friggin’ CHOCOLATE essence. But the one I want so I can make my choc-orange cheesecake? Nowhere in sight. So now I’m having to fudge around and try and make this work with half-ripe oranges and a bottle of triple sec.

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How in this world or the next do you cook with rosewater essence? Is that for the ever-so-fancy Perfume Cake?

375

I dropped my $50 iPod shuffle into the toilet yesterday, killing it. Fuck.

And I found out this week that I’ve been suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder for the last twenty years. Again, fuck.

376

That wasn’t cable, that was NBC, along with all their various cable networks (MSNBC, Bravo, etc.) NBC programs, the cable provider just pipes the signal to your TV. They have no control over content.

377

Oh ElzaB! :eek: hoping that you got a dodgy batch of home tests.
To the relatives who shout at me:

  1. My definition of an emergency is not the same as yours. Yes, your father needs his toe amputated in the next day or two. However, the guy bleeding to death from his ruptured aneurysm needs to go to theatre NOW, so yes, we’re bumping daddy off the list, and no, I can’t guarantee that the same thing won’t happen tomorrow. That is why this is an EMERGENCY LIST. Feel free to speak to my seniors- you’ll have to wait though, at the moment they’re up to their elbows in someone’s abdomen, attempting to cross-clamp his aorta so he doesn’t die.

  2. No, I don’t know when they’ll be ready for your relative to go down to theatre. They’re in the middle of an operation, it’s not a good time to call and find out how long they think they’re going to be. Seriously, your dad is watching TV, he’s fine waiting. No, I know it’s going to be inconvenient for you if he’s not back from recovery when you call in on your way home from work tonight- either call back again later tonight or wait until he’s back on the ward. Me dragging a scrub nurse out to answer the phone will not make anything go faster.

  3. No, we don’t think your dad is crazy. He’s 96 and doesn’t want his leg amputated, he know’s he might die, but he’s OK with that. No, we can’t “knock him out” and take him down against his wishes. Yes, we know he’s old, but he knows what he is doing. I know this is not fun for you but please do not take it out on me and think about what you are actually asking for.

  4. If your wife wants to sign herself out because we won’t let her smoke, I agree, she’s very stupid. What I cannot do is let her smoke on the ward, nor hold her here against her will, neither can I let her “sign herself out” to go for a smoke and then come back upstairs to her bed. She wants to smoke, she signs herself out against medical advice and goes back to A&E to sit with all the other punters. If I have decided she is not well enough to go outside unaccompanied to smoke, it means that I can’t hold her bed open for her…that’s what happens when you discharge yourself, someone else gets your bed. Don’t like it, convince her to stay and keep the nicotine patch on.

  5. Yes, I know your dad has diabetes. Yes, I know he is last on the list and has been fasting since midnight. No, I do not think that is a good reason for him to go first on the list. We are dealing with the situation with IV insulin and dextrose and regular blood sugar monitoring- a day without food will not cause any problems. It certainly doesn’t seem to be a problem for any of our other hundreds of diabetic patients.

And one special mini-rant for the nurses.
There is one of me, and on Friday I had 45 patients because I was covering for a sick colleague as well my own list. 22 of those patient needed either pre-op or post-op bloods. It would be much, much easier if the five of you who have trained to take blood help me by taking 3 or 4 bloods each. That way I don’t spend 2 hours taking bloods (not 2 hours straight, 2 hours broken up into minutes snatched throughout the day) and you don’t have to wait so long for me to clerk-in the new admissions/see the sick people/write precriptions/do the other jobs only a doctor can do. If I had help all the bloods would have been done before 10am, so that the results would be back before the afternoon round. Even if you had all done one blood each, it would have helped enormously.

I know you can do it, you’re wearing the little badge that says you’ve taken the course. Please don’t look at me blankly when I ask you to use the skill you spent a whole day of paid study leave acquiring and then tell me that you don’t feel “confident” taking blood from actual patients. I learnt to take blood in a “see one, do one, teach one” way that took all of about 15minutes- guess what, it gets easier with practice. Today was not the day when I could supervise your technique and give you helpful pointers- I was asking for actual assistance from a colleague, not offering to give a course in remedial phlebotomy.
Thank you, I feel much better.

378

To the ungrateful bitch who came into the store tonight:

We close at 9. It was almost 9:05 when I went to lock up, and saw you pull into the parking lot. I was nice enough to offer to let you and your kids come in to buy stuff if it was only going to be a couple things. You said you knew exactly what you needed and would only be a minute. Great, no problem!

So what do you do? You get what you came in for and then decide you need to call your mother to find out which deodorant Jeff uses, because it smells so nice and you want to pick some up for Paul for when he runs out(by the way, I don’t think you even needed to bother with the phone - you were loud enough that she probably could’ve heard you without it).

And your kids? I guess since you knew you were the only customer, you figured it was safe for them to go wandering off in separate directions, causing you to spend additional time finding them and herding them in the direction of the registers, while prying the toys they took off the shelves out of their hands.
Finally, you get to the cashier. Where you have her ring in each of your two items separately. And then you remember you “need” a pack of gum, which you decide to pay for with dimes and pennies, even though you have bills IN YOUR HAND from the other purchases, because you “need to get rid of some of this change”. You have the nerve to roll your eyes and tap your fingernails on the counter as my cashier recounts it.

Up to this point, I was annoyed with you, but when you got back to the front door and found it closed(because the store closed almost 20 minutes ago, dumbass!), and you had to wait for me to walk the ten feet to go and open it for you, and you took that time to squawk, “this is ridiculous and I’m a customer and I don’t have all fucking night to wait for you to let me out of here!”?

Well, that was when I decided to disembowel you and bury you in the parking lot.

Good thing for you that would have eaten up even more of my time, so I settled for merely wishing that you get hit by a truck, as I apologized, smiled and wished you a good night.

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Over here, the cable provider is the content provider.

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Can I add something to this? I may be the reason those nurses don’t want to take blood.

Listen folks, when I say I’m needlephobic and you need so distract me from the actual sticking metal into my veins bit of bloodtaking, that means DISTRACT ME FROM THE NEEDLE OR I WILL GO INTO A FULL-FLEDGED PANIC ATTACK. I know from long experience that panic attacks are not conducive to effective blood-taking. Is it that hard to yell, “Hey a giraffe just walked in!” and stab me while my head is turned? Because I’m willing to be distracted. Really.