Dear SiL- having another kid will not magically fix your relationship with your husband. Especially because your first kid is practically being raised by your parents and siblings, and your husband is allowed no say in his bringing up or life at all. And since you’ve almost divorced twice since November anyway. After almost two years of marriage.
Bringing another kid into the world when you two are having enormous problems with each other and the first one, live in squalor with your parents, and can’t afford your own place= not a good idea. Especially if you decide to feed this one all junk all the fucking time as you do with your son.
An all-cookie and gum and candy diet is repulsivle and disgusting, especially for an 18 month old. Your children are going to have terrible teeth, diabetes, and be fat, just like the rest of your family.
And fuck you and your family for deciding to starve and asphyxiate a pet fish to death because you, “Can’t bear to flush him. It would be mean.”
Cooking for the gentleman in a kitchen we’ve had to re-equip from scratch has been interesting. Thanks to a Christmas present from my parents, we now have a complete set of pots and pans, so I was able to pan roast a couple of chicken breasts. We’re a little short on spices here, so I was only going to season them with salt and pepper, using a nice little salt and pepper grinder set I bought a few weeks ago. I should have taken a closer look at the salt cellar. It wasn’t filled with salt. Instead, the white thing inside of it was a white paper liner. It gets more painful, though.
After I started cooking the chicken, I realized I had a slight problem. You see, we have oven-proof pots and pans, but not potholders! When I tried carefully to fish a piece of chicken out of the pan, I burned a knuckle on the upper rack in the stove. It’s a very minor burn, but, drat it, it hurts!
Enough of the mother fucking snow! We got 45 inches of snow in December. You know when we last got that much of the shity white stuff in December? Never. As of yesterday we broke the record set in 1876. 'sides December we got 3.5 inches in November (which I think is a lie born of sucky record keeping in Concord since there were two good storms in November) as well as all the goddamn snow we got today too. Officially we’re up to 53 inches and counting.
The total for last winter was 48 inches. Some fucking how the average for this area is 50 to 70 inches a winter, and I can’t understand how that doesn’t make the average 60, but I think we’ve pretty much gotten our fill for the whole damn winter. So enough. I’m tired of being cold, of being sore from shoveling, of being damp from trying to wade through this shit. Enough!!!
:Shrug: As I’ve mentioned a few times, the gentleman lost nearly everything in a fire a few months ago. “Nearly everything” includes all the kitchen stuff except for one pot and some quarters. The quarters were blistered from the heat, so I’m not sure if his one potholder even survived.
I’d pit the fire and its aftermath, but I’ve grumbled about it here and there and I don’t want to become a broken record (CD?).
Ron Paul must be giving off some kind of pheromones that attract loonies*.
*not a knock on Diosa’s father and the four or five other non-loony Ron Paul supporters.
I want this damn cough to go away. I’m tired of horking up crud and being tired and achy. I’d love to be able to sleep through the night without waking up to cough.
Re: The car that we bought on the 31st December (to replace the one written off because some f**kwit has no concept of a reasonable speed to approach red lights at night in the rain), which proceeded to seize it’s water pump within 1 hour and have to go back to the dealer where it is still waiting for parts (note, that dealer has been very nice and are having no problem dealing with this under the limited warranty they give with 2nd hand cars). Thanks, brilliant end to 2007.
Also: The absolute best way for us to begin 2008 was for our guinea pig Bailey to get a respiratory tract infection (first showed symptoms yesterday morning) and die this morning. (Again, thanks to the not-so-local vets who were open on New Years’ Day and don’t charge an insane consultation fee, at least we could get her there for antibiotics quickly, even if it didn’t make a difference in the end).
Really, thanks world!
(Apologies for general patheticness of this minirant, I think I am just going to hibernate for 2008 if it doesnt show signs of improvement)
Goodbye, holidays. Can’t say as I’ll miss you. Things will return to normal (lil’ bastards will be back in school, etc.), peace and quiet will return. Yay!
Look, fucktard. We are locked in a monitoring station. Sometimes it is in the same city with you, sometimes it is in another state. It is physically impossible for us to set off your alarm. We can’t set it off from here, and we can’t reset it from here. Don’t bitch at us when we call you to ask if everything is all right. You had one of my coworkers in tears last night.
And a New Year’s Message to certain police dispatchers: you chose your job, I don’t think you were shanghai’d into it. If your would bother to listen to us, two of your questions would be answered - I tell you my operator name and the company I am calling for when I start the conversation with you. Don’t get pissy with me if the dispatchers next to you are talking so loud you can’t hear. All of my calls are recorded and my supervisors are pleased with the clarity, speed and tone of my speech. I am telling you what you need to dispatch. Listen.
And as an offset to that rant - certain other police dispatchers: thank you for being so nice. I realize certain customers we monitor for are not capable of correctly using an alarm system. I know they set off false alarms at least twice a week. Thanks for not taking it out on us.
At the new years eve house party I attended last night, not ONE, but TWO guys (one “good acquaintance”, one “friend of friends”), in isolated circumstances, in the middle of chatting in a crowded area, suddenly grab my drink and raise it above our heads, crumpling the cup and spilling the drink, not just on me (as I have the presence of mind to step back) but on everyone standing around us. WHO does this?? Is this some new jackass trend I don’t know about? First of all, intentionally spilling a drink on a woman is the most unclassy move at a party, ever, not EVEN including ALSO spilling on everyone in proximity. Secondly, thanks, now I have to worm through the mass of partygoers to the liquor table to get myself another one. I’m nearing the point where I never want to attend another party, ever, INCLUDING ones that are apparently only friends and friends-of-friends. Whatever happened to having a cocktail and enjoying the evening? Gah!
You have sent me a bill for my premium. You tell me that my six month premium is $307, but that I can save $26 by paying it all at once or I can pay $337 by paying it in monthly installments.
In other words, there is no conceivable way I can pay you $307 and only $307.
Why this irritates me so much is a mystery, but it does!
Stop buying fucking sensitive equipment from south America.
I just had to reluctantly return around $8000,- worth of equipment, because their OP-specifications wouldn’t allow for temperatures less than five degrees celcius.
We’re in FUCKING NORWAY, MORONS! It’s colder than that for 75% of the year! This equipment is being used in a documentary about AURORAS! You know, the FAR-NORTH phenomenon most commonly observed in MID-WINTER?!
We had a date. One fucking date. You were reasonably cute. We did not have sex. As a matter of fact, I got cheek. I didn’t particularly feel the need to see you again, maybe those two things are connected, maybe not, I didn’t really think about it. Since then I’ve honestly considered inviting you over for an emergency titty-fuck but you didn’t really strike me as the kind of girl that would ignore the stuff my last gf left in the bathroom and I was too lazy to throw it out, so I just kind of moved on and never called. It was the holidays for fuck’s sake. You didn’t rock my world and that’s just the way this shit goes sometimes.
SO. STOP. TEXT. MESSAGING. ME.
Universe is a fickle place, more fish in the sea, now shut the fuck up. Why do people do this to themselves? Were you people born without dignity? If he doesn’t call, leave him the fuck alone. No, we didn’t lose your goddamned number, we just didn’t call it.
Have you actually told her that you’re not interested in seeing her again?
I agree that constant attempts to get in touch can be a pain in the ass, and a sign of desperation, but if you don’t have the stones to actually answer one of her texts with “Sorry, i’m just not that into you,” then you’re just as lame as she is.
Oh yeah, little addendum so the nice folks here don’t think I’m being my usual dickish self.
You? Are fucking married.
No, I get it. You’re European, you need the citizenship, I get it. I’ve been offered the deal myself. You found some sensitive boy who needed ten grand and a beard, you need the papers, no problemo, you don’t live together, happens everyday. Unfortunately, the problem here is that
YOU. Are fucking married.
And no offense but as hot as you may be, I can get the same that isn’t married. Since I get to pick why would I take the complication? It’s like asking me if I want my new puppy to have hip problems or not. And besides how the fucking fuck am I supposed to introduce that, here’s Olga my married girlfriend? We can’t date, dumbass. We can fuck, but we cannot date, because you
No, she figured it out herself when I didn’t call. And then she started in with the “why didnt u want to see me again” stuff. She doesn’t want me at this point, she wants a forensic fucking examination of my lack of interest. I don’t give that to women I’ve been dating for months, let alone one date.
“Can’t bear to flush him?”